Breathing Room
by klarolineepiclove
Summary: Dr. Spencer Reid knew his statistics--he knew facts and diagrams. He was the “smart guy.” He liked it when things made sense. But when Brooke Davis blows into town and turns his world upside down, NOTHING makes sense
1. Chapter 1

**Breathing Room**

**A.N. This idea has been gnawing at my brain since I started watching Criminal Minds two months ago. I know I have the Brean story still to finish, which is my first priority, but I just wanted to see how this kind of story would go over. So, yeah. Let me know!**

**Summary: Dr. Spencer Reid knew his statistics--he knew facts and diagrams. He was the "smart guy." He liked it when things made sense. But when Brooke Davis blows into town and turns his world upside down, NOTHING makes sense.**

* * *

"Check latent prints, run extensive background check on unsub C," Penelope Garcia repeated quietly, going through her daily tasks as she made her way through the FBI headquarters. "Let's see, uh, news reports from serial in '02, pull together case file on--oh, sorry." She struggled to keep a hold on her overstuffed trapper keeper and reach an apologetic hand out to the girl she'd run into.

"No problem, it was my fault."

The almost raspy voice made Garcia's head snap up just in time to see the retreating figure of a slender brunette making her way to the visitor check-in desk.

"No," Garcia mumbled softly. "No, it couldn't be." She walked ahead a few steps, peering around a pillar as the young girl spoke with the receptionist, nodding as she quickly signed her name to the visitor's log. "There's no way…"

But how could it not be? The hair, the smile, the voice. The clothes, for God's sake.

She pressed herself against the marble, eyes trained on the girl, watching as she turned slightly to examine the floor numbers and offices. She was turned to the side, but Garcia could easily see her pale, flawless face.

She gasped softly, eyes widening behind her glasses. _Oh. My. God._

"Morning, Baby Girl."

"Gah!" Garcia yelped, whirling around to see the smirking face of Derek Morgan.

"Little jumpy there, Sweet Thing?" he asked, laughing.

She glared at him behind her thin framed glasses. "After all these years, don't you know better than to scare someone who can wipe out your financial accounts and ruin your credit history with a single keystroke?" Morgan simply continued to smile and she sighed, turning back to peer around the pillar. "Ugh, as if I could stay angry at you, my dark chocolate hero."

He laughed, shifted his jacket on his arm, and leaned over her shoulder. "Why so Bourne Identity, Hottstuff?"

Garcia pointed to the front desk. "Do you see the exceptionally well-dressed brunette over there?"

He nodded, smirking. "You mean the exceptionally well-dressed brunette with the exceptional figure and melt-my-heart dimples?"

She cast a withering glance in his direction. "Yes, Neanderthal, that brunette."

The agent rolled his eyes. "What about her?"

"Well, Luscious, I am almost positive that the brunette is none other than Brooke Davis."

She turned to face him when he didn't reply, and saw him staring at her questionably.

"Brooke Davis. Small-town girl that launched a hit clothing line at the age of 17. Sky-rocketed to a multibillion dollar entrepreneur by 21. Sets the foundation of said company on the motto, 'Zero is not a size.'" At his still blank look, she threw up her hand. "Do you not browse the magazine rack at the checkout counter?"

"Do you not realize how much you sound like a stalker right now?" he chuckled.

"Oh, I would gladly stalk Brooke Davis. I would stomp on your head, my little pretty, to become her stalker. She is my idol. Literally. Standing strong against a vain world that demands conformity based on waist size and appearance. Don't you see that this is Fate! For us to meet and become soul sisters on the platform of ostracism."

"Excuse me?"

Garcia jumped, twirling around to see none other than Brooke Davis standing behind them. Her mouth dropped open ungracefully and her eyes nearly bulged from their sockets.

Brooke smiled, pointing over her shoulder. "I'm sorry to bother you, but the woman at the counter said you could point me in the direction of the Behavioral Analysis Unit."

Morgan glanced at Garcia, grinning at her star-struck expression, and turned to the young woman before them. "Absolutely," he said, extending a hand towards her. "Special Agent Derek Morgan, BAU task force. This is Penelope Garcia, our resident tech analyst."

Brooke smiled, shaking his hand. "Brooke Davis."

He smiled charmingly, nodding. " 'Zero is not a size'," he said, ignoring the infuriated gasp from the flamboyant woman next to him. He sent her a quick wink, grinning. "Garcia's a big fan of yours."

Brooke grinned, switching her gaze to Garcia's now beaming face. "Really?"

"Fo'sho," Garcia replied, causing the brunette to laugh at her slang. "Clothes Over Bros. is literally Manna from Heaven. I've been following your career for years. Not in a freaky stalker way, mind you, but the healthy 'this-is-the-coolest-woman-on-the-planet' way."

Brooke smiled. "Thank you," she said, laughing. "Though Manna from Heaven might be pushing it a bit. I'd settle for Johnny Depp offering red wine and a lifetime of Jack Sparrow fantasies, but hey."

Morgan smiled and rolled his eyes when he heard Garcia sing "Soul Sister" under her breath and motioned towards the elevators. "The BAU is this way," he said, leading the way and shaking his head as Garcia quickly engaged the fashion designer in conversation, realizing that he was now as good as invisible.

He leaned against the wall of the elevator and finally took the time to really look at Brooke Davis.

She was a knockout, that's for sure. He'd peg her at about 22 or 23, and considering the facts Garcia had fed him minutes ago, he'd say the latter. She was well-clothed, her blue dress just stopping at her calves, it's spaghetti straps revealing smooth, slightly toned arms. Her slender figure was easily outlined in its smooth material.

Her face was pale and flawless, with big hazel eyes that seemed to shimmer. Her smile, though, as beautiful as it was, didn't quite reach those eyes, and it made him curious.

What could be the cause of that?

The three of them stepped off the elevator and Morgan walked forward to pull open the glass doors that led to the BAU. "Here we are," he said, leading them to his desk and tossing his jacket over his chair. "What can we do for you today, Miss Davis?"

She smiled shrugging. "If you could just point me in the direction of SSA Aaron Hotchner's office."

Garcia and Morgan exchanged a surprise glance. "Hotch?" they asked in unison.

Brooke frowned slightly. "Yeah…."

They pointed up the stairs to their supervisor's office.

She smiled, nodding. "Thanks," she said, turning to leave. "Um, it was great to meet you guys."

They watched as she made her way up the stairs before stopping before the office door and knocking lightly. A second passed before she walked in, smiling, and closed the door behind her.

Morgan and Garcia sat watching for a long moment before turning to look at each other, bewildered. "Hotch?"

* * *

Brooke took a deep breath before rapping quickly on the door.

She heard a muffled reply and pulled it open, peeking her heard around the corner.

Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner looked up from his endless mountain of paperwork, and a rare smile graced his face when he saw who stood in his doorway.

"Brooke," he said, standing to his feet and meeting her halfway, pulling her into a tight hug.

"Hi, Uncle Aaron."

* * *

**Well, hopefully this piques someone's interest. I've got a couple more chapters typed up, so I'll upload them and then let you guys b the judge. **

**R&R and let me know!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Breathing Room**

**A.N. Thanks for the input, guys! I think I'm going to give this story a go. I love the pairing of Brooke/Reid, so I'm going to explore their relationship a little. Let me know what you guys think as it goes on.**

* * *

"You think maybe she's being stalked?"

Morgan shrugged, leaning against his desk with Garcia as they watched the two figures through Hotch's partially obscured windows.

"She asked for him specifically," he said, frowning as he watched Brooke smile and say something, causing their superior to laugh.

Garcia glanced at him. "Affair?"

"She's a baby," he defended. "And isn't she your idol?"

"She's almost 24, Sweetcakes, and she can have an affair with an older, authoritive man and still be my idol. It works for a lot of people. Just look at Catherine Zeta-Jones."

Morgan laughed, shaking his head as he scratched his stubbled chin with his thumb. "I still don't buy it. Affairs aren't Hotch's style. Even it if it is a gorgeous brunette with killer legs."

"Good Lord, Morgan, I'm standing right behind you, and I know you attended that sexual harassment seminar."

The laughing voice behind them made them turn, and Morgan rolled his eyes as Emily Prentiss made her way to her desk, her face alight with a teasing smile. Her black hair hung around her face gently, coming to rest just below her shoulder blades.

"As great as your legs may be, Prentiss, they are not the subject of discussion today," he remarked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Prentiss arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "Oh? Then whose are?"

"Whose what?"

All three of them looked over as two of their coworkers arrived, Jennifer "JJ" Jareau and Dr. Spencer Reid.

JJ--the blonde agent that worked as liaison between the team and the media--was shuffling the folders she carried in her arms as she spoke, stopping to lean against the desk next to Garcia as she peered at them from beneath her bangs.

Prentiss rolled her eyes. "Morgan's obsessing over some brunette's legs," she said, smiling when JJ cracked a smirk and laughed.

"Okay, so whose legs are in question here?" she asked.

"Brooke Davis," Garcia replied, biting the bright pink head of her pen.

Reid raised both eyebrows as he crossed to his desk, sliding the messenger bag off of his shoulder as he sat down, running a hand through his shoulder length brown hair. "Who?"

He couldn't help but flinch at the glare that Garcia sent over her shoulder, and he held up his hands in surrender.

Prentiss frowned as she sat down in her chair, tugging at the bottom of her button-up shirt. "Isn't she that fashion designer who started her company when she was, like, ten?"

Garcia made an disappointed noise in the back of her throat. "Sweet nectar, does no one know a thing about Brooke Davis?" she asked, shaking in her head is disapproval. "She was 17, mind you, and just kept getting more and more successful as time went on." She rolled her eyes to the ceiling. "God, help me with this feeble folk."

JJ laughed, pushing her hair behind her ear as she hugged the files to her chest. "I like her stuff," she said, nodding to the eclectic tech analyst. "I bought a dress of hers for a fundraiser last year."

"And did you not look smashing in it?" Garcia asked, her eyes traveling back to Hotch's window.

The blonde pursed her lips, nodding. "I pulled it off," she joked.

Reid shrugged from his seat. "Never heard of her."

Morgan chuckled, glancing at him from over his shoulder. "Why doesn't that surprise me, Pretty Boy?"

The younger man simply shook his head, sighing. "So why is this girl's legs being discussed?"

Garcia turned to them, excitement lighting up her blue eyes and making them seem twice their actual size. "Because she's in Hotch's office," she whispered conspirator-like.

The new arrivals whipped their head towards their superior's office, Prentiss nearly leaning over her desk as she squinted towards the blinds, each of them trying to get a glimpse of the brunette that was silhouetted in front of Hotch's desk.

"What's she doing here?" the brunette asked, finally settling back in her chair. "Is she involved in a case?"

JJ shook her head, frowning. "Nothing's come across my desk."

Morgan shrugged, standing and striding over to his own desk slowly. "Well, whatever the reason, she asked for Hotch by name."

"And she HUGGED him," Garcia chimed in, her eyes wide as if it were shameful to even mention.

"She hugged him?" JJ asked, her curiosity peaked. "Seriously?"

Garcia nodded, tapping her nails against the rainbow colored binder on her lap. "We're thinking affair or odd acquaintance."

Reid shook his head, scoffing. "It wouldn't be an affair," he said, his no-nonsense voice taking of the tone of a lecturer, something all of his coworkers were very used to by now. "Hotch is far too intelligent to parade a mistress around the BAU, no matter how pretty people may claim her to be."

"Reid," Morgan smirked, leaning towards him and pointing towards the office. "You look up there and tell me that Brooke Davis is not one of the finest women you've ever seen in your short, uneventful life."

"Considering that Hotch's windows are obscured by the office regulation blinds, therefore making my eyesight compromised, I couldn't tell you. And besides, I don't base the attractiveness of someone based solely on looks alone. There are other factors to consider and most of the time, looks are deceiving."

The three women could only manage to roll their eyes as their young friend continued on his rant, while Morgan scoffed once more, folding his arms behind his head as he leaned back in his chair, turning it from side to side. "Trust me, Pretty Boy, Miss Davis has it all." He looked over his shoulder to Hotch's office, frowning. "But what the hell is she doing here?"

* * *

"I signed over the company."

Hotch frowned at his niece's words, folding his hands on top of his desk. He took a second to really look her over since she'd walked in the door, and he couldn't help the slight surprise he saw when he took in her pale face and thin frame. Brooke had always been a slight girl, but she had to have lost at least ten pounds since he'd seen her at Thanksgiving. Her hazel eyes didn't hold their usual shine that he'd always found so comforting in the young girl, and the bags under her eyes stood out against her pale skin.

She looked weak and vulnerable, two attributes she never revealed.

"Excuse me?"

"I signed the company over to Victoria." Brooke lifted a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug as she bit her bottom lip. "It just wasn't worth it anymore, Uncle Aaron. All the negotiations and the lawyers and the stress, it just…" She shook her head. "Anyway, it's all her now. She wants it that bad, she can have it."

Hotch leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk as he looked at her. "Brooke, this company is all you've dreamt about since you were 17. It's all you've talked about. Just because Victoria's being a bully--"

"But she's right," she interrupted. "You have to admit that. She's always had the brains for the business side of things. She's the one who came up with the magazine and the make-up line, and the couture items…She's the real business mastermind and I'm….just the pretty face on the cover."

"And the designer," he pointed out.

Brooke laughed. "Like that matters. Anyone can design clothes nowadays. Even Miley Cyrus has a line now."

Hotch frowned. "Who's Miley Cyrus?"

Brooke arched an eyebrow in disbelief. "She's a…never mind," she said, waving her hand in dismissal as she sighed. "Look, I love my company. But I love my life more. And when I'm running Clothes Over Bros. and fighting with Victoria, I don't get to live it. I don't smile and I don't laugh unless I'm told to. I just…exist."

Hotch nodded, staring into her eyes and cursing his sister for the shadows he saw there. His niece was at the end of her rope, and he couldn't say that he hadn't seen it coming the minute she'd told him all those years ago that she had signed to contracts granting partnership to his younger sister.

Victoria had always been a selfish person, since they were young. And over the years, selfishness had turned to bitterness and greed, resentful of the life she'd fallen into her. All of her "failed dreams," as she'd called them. Owning a business, going to college, being successful.

Not once had one of her dreams ever included the daughter she had pushed to the backburner.

He sighed. "So what's your plan now?"

She shrugged, twisting the ring on her index finger. "I don't know," she said self-consciously. "Play it by ear, I guess. Just relax. I'm hoping the time away from Tree Hill will maybe help put things into perspective. You know, get away from the place that started it all, and maybe just…start over again with something new."

Hotch nodded, leaning back in his chair. "Well, you're welcome to stay as long as you like. Haylee offered up the guest room, if you'd be more comfortable there," he added, his voice low and strained at the mention of his now ex-wife.

Brooke shrugged, smiling the smile that could always bend him to her will since she was five years old. "I'm fine with staying with my cantankerous uncle," she quipped, watching as he rolled his eyes and sighed. "I'll stop in and see her and Jack, though." She paused, frowning as she looked at him sympathetically. "I am really sorry about you and Aunt Haylee. I was rooting for you guys."

Hotch nodded, smiling softly. "Me, too," he said quietly, his eyes falling to the picture of his son on his desk, and he cleared his throat at the emotion he felt climbing upwards. "Anyway, I'll give you the spare key to the apartment so you can get yourself settled in. And, unless a case comes up before the end of the day, why don't we plan on a takeout dinner? Chinese, right? That's the tradition?"

Brooke smiled, unable to help the feeling of comfort and relief she felt in her uncle's presence. He'd always been more of a parent to her than either of her own…and it broke her heart to see the toll losing Jack was taking on him. "That's the tradition," she echoed back, nodding. "Greasy, artery clogging goodness."

He cringed at her description, watching as she laughed, and rose out of his chair. He pulled open his desk drawer and handed her the keychain that was inside, the lone silver key shining against the fluorescent lights. She took it with a smile, rising to her feet and smoothing down her dress as she followed him to the door. She stopped him when his hand reached for the handle, gently placing her hand on his arm.

"Thanks for all of this, Uncle Aaron," she said, smiling up at him. "Letting me come and just…everything." She shrugged. "It means a lot more than I can say."

Hotch smiled down at her, nodding, and pressed a quick kiss to the top of her head. "Anytime, kiddo," he said softly, pulling open the door and motioning for her to go first. He glanced back into his office before he turned to follow her, stopping just in time before he plowed right into her. Frowning, he glanced over her shoulder from where she had frozen, his gaze falling on his team as they gazed up in curiosity at them.

Catching his gaze, the BAU task force quickly averted their ogling, seeming to suddenly find great interest in files or computers or nonexistent lint.

Hotch shook his head as he fought a smile, and he glanced over at Brooke when she looked up at him.

"Why were they all staring at me?" she whispered.

He chuckled, placing a hand on the small of her back as he lead her down the ramp into the bullpen. "Attention deficit," he said, hearing her snort softly. "They see something pretty, they can't help but stare." He felt her hand weakly smack his chest as they walked, and he couldn't help the small smile that crept across his face. He looked up as they reached the cluster of desks, and he couldn't help but notice to curiosity that was etched in each of their faces. He cleared his throat, letting the smile slip from his face as he stopped. "Everyone, I'd like you to meet my niece."

"Niece?!?" Garcia exclaimed, her eyes wide and her high-pitched tone making Brooke jump slightly at his side.

"Yes, niece," he said, giving the tech analyst a look that told her to calm down. "She's in town for awhile and since she's staying in my spare bedroom, she stopped by to get the spare key. And since the second we stepped out of my office you've done nothing but stare, I thought it polite to introduce you."

The team had the decency to look somewhat embarrassed, and Brooke couldn't help but grin. She looked at her uncle, motioning to the two team members she's already met. "I met Morgan and Garcia earlier," she said, smiling at them. "They showed me the way up here."

Hotch nodded, rolling his eyes at the sheer joy on Garcia's face when she realized Brooke had remembered her name. "Well, this is Jennifer Jareau, Emily Prentiss, and Dr. Spencer Reid," he said, pointing to each of them in turn. They each smiled at her and she waved, her eyebrow raised when she came to Reid.

"Doctor?" she asked, looking up at her uncle when the young man only gave her an odd look.

"He's a genius," the four seated agents said in unison before Hotch could even open his mouth to reply, and she nodded, shrugging, before smiling at them.

"Well, it's nice to meet you guys," she said, playing with the key ring on her finger as she spoke.

Hotch nodded, placing his hand on her back once more. "Alright, given that everything goes smoothly, I should be home around 7 or 8. I'll grab the food on my way and we can catch up some more, alright?"

Brooke nodded, smiling at him, and looked over at the team once more, her hand raised in a wave. "It was nice meeting you guys," she said, turning on her heel with a last quiet goodbye to her uncle.

Hotch watched her until she'd exited the room and disappeared down the hallway before he heard an impatient throat clearing behind him. Turning, he raised an eyebrow at the disgruntled expression of his tech analyst's face, and he frowned. "Garcia?"

Clutching her binder to her chest, the short blonde rose to her feet and met his gaze defiantly. "While I still highly respect you, sir, and am overjoyed to be under your supervision, this horrible black mark of keeping the fact that Brooke Davis is your niece-- and therefore I could have met her LONG before now-- a secret, I fear that it may take some time before I am able to look at you without this glare that will now be permanently etched onto my face." With a curt nod, her pink highlighted bangs bobbing into her eyes, she turned on her heel and strode towards her office, leaving her boss stupefied in her wake.

Shaking her blonde head, JJ laughed, raising to her full height as she crossed the short distance to his side. "Brooke Davis, huh?" she asked, smiling when he glanced down at her. "It's just a surprise, that's all. I think the fact that you kept your bombshell fashion designing niece a secret is just a little shocking."

Hotch crossed his arms over his chest. "She hasn't always been a 'bombshell fashion designer,'" he said, nodding towards the way the girl in question had just exited. "I guess I just still think of her as Brooke, the sometimes overly perky cheerleading niece that can somehow always finagle some kind of shopping spree out of every visit." He smiled slightly when she laughed before his gaze fell on the files in her arms. "Do we have something?"

She nodded, sighing.

"Okay. Conference room in ten."

Morgan made his way slowly over to Reid's desk, a knowing smile creeping across his handsome face with each step. Since Brooke Davis had appeared in the hall above them, the young genius had been sitting in the same position, the same shocked expression on his face. Morgan knew that expression well, and he leaned a hip against the desk as he crossed his arms over his muscled chest, chuckling. "What do you think, Reid?" he asked, grinning when his young friend jumped slightly in his seat, his hands quickly moving to the messenger bag at his feet. "Did I not tell you she was a knock-out?"

Reid cleared his throat, embarrassed at having been caught staring at the brunette beauty that had been in front of them moments ago, and he furrowed his brow as he dug through his bag, avoiding the other agent's gaze. "She is pretty," he said nonchalantly, shrugging. "But, as I mentioned, looks can be deceiving."

Morgan scoffed and laughed as he shook his head, patting the man on the shoulder as he pushed away, heading to his own desk.

Reid licked his lips in thought as he raised his gaze to the front door, baffled at how two short minutes in the same room with a young fashion designer could so boggle his head in ways he didn't think possible.

* * *

**Whew…I really didn't expect the "introducing the team" chapter would be hard to write, but it was a tad difficult. Hopefully I kept everybody in character. J**

**And, you know, it might be me, but I love when Hotch gets all…laid back around his family. It's a side of him I think we should see more often. And, honestly, who DOESN'T relax around Brooke Davis, right?**

**Let me know what you all are feeling!**

**Until next time!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Breathing Room**

**A.N. Thanks for the fantastic reviews, guys! I'm warming up to Reid and Brooke a lot more after reading how much you guys enjoy it. So…thanks!!**

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

She wasn't sleeping.

Hotch looked up from the file spread out on his lap, his brow furrowing as he listened to the sounds of his niece wandering through the apartment. Glancing at the digital clock on his bedside table, he saw that it was nearly 3 a.m. It was normal for him to be up so late, but memories of a ruffled, teenage Brooke being nothing but an unresponsive lump under a pile of blankets whenever she would stay for a weekend turned his mouth down in a frown.

Over the last week, he'd been watching Brooke. He would watch for those quirky little habits that had always made Haylee smile, and he had grown concerned when he found them few and far between. Her million dollar smile never quite reached her eyes anymore, her dimples that had made her the most beautiful baby rarely making an appearance. He recognized the shadows in her eyes, the near skittish way with how she moved through a crowd.

Something horrible had happened to her.

There was more to her trip than just "getting away."

But, knowing from past experiences, he knew she'd never tell him. She'd never put her own burdens onto him; her twisted sense of compassion or protectiveness or whatever it was kept her from doing so.

So Hotch could do nothing but turn out his light and lie back in the darkness, listening to the sounds of Brooke doing the dishes that had already been washed, all the horrific possible scenarios running through his mind.

He couldn't stand the thought of any of them.

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Reid closed his hand around the loose bills the barista handed back to him, smiling at her as he nodded his thanks. He shoved the change into his pants pocket, picking his coffee up from the counter and turning on his heel, heading to one of the more isolated tables in the back of the coffee shop.

He sighed as he slung his messenger bag into the empty seat next to him, running a hand through his hair as he sat down. Sipping the piping hot liquid cautiously, he pulled a worn, leather-bound book from his bag, sitting his Styrofoam cup onto the table as he settled back into the chair. Opening the weathered volume to the last page he had marked, he let his eyes fly over the page, letting the noise and busyness of the coffee shop around him fade into the background.

"Dr. Reid."

He glanced up at the mention of his name, and he couldn't keep the surprise from his face when he spotted Brooke Davis standing at the table next to him.

He hadn't seen her since that day she showed up at the BAU, and he was shocked to experience that same punch-in-the-gut feeling at seeing her in a coffee shop. In HIS coffee shop.

Brooke was looking at him with a small smile on her pale face, her hands wrapped around a large Styrofoam cup. She pointed at him, her palm pointing upwards, and laughed uncertainly. "It is Dr. Reid, right?"

Reid shook his head slightly, breaking the stupor, and nodded. "Uh, yeah, yeah," he said, running a hand through his hair again. "Spencer," he added, looking up at her.

She nodded, a strand of brown hair falling out of her neat ponytail, and smiled. "I thought so," she said, adjusting the strap of her bag into the crease of her elbow. She tapped her fingers against her cup, suddenly unsure of what to say.

Much to his surprise, Reid was finding himself in the same situation. That fact had him frowning--since when did he NOT have something to say?

He cleared his throat, looking at her again. "Are you enjoying your visit?"

Brooke nodded, shrugging. "Sure," she said. "It's been a few years since I've stayed with Uncle Aaron, so it's quite the, um…adventure." She smiled. "So, um…do you come here often?" She watched as he frowned, and she motioned to the shop around them. "The um…coffee shop."

"Oh," Reid said, leaning back in his chair. "Yeah."

Brooke nodded again, raising her eyebrows as she shifted slightly on her feet. Why did he keep staring at her as if she'd grown another head? She knew that she looked a little thrown together--washed out blue jeans, one of Uncle Aaron's faded college sweatshirts, and her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail--but even on a lazy day, she knew wasn't horrible to gaze at.

So why did she feel so self-conscious under the gaze of Dr. Spencer Reid?

She smiled uncertainly at him, tapping her fingers against her cup as she bobbed her head. "Right," she said, lifting her hand in a half-hearted wave as she turned on her heel and plopped down into the nearest seat she could find. She sighed, turning her head to avoid Reid's inquisitive gaze, and frowned.

From a few feet behind her, Reid watched as she settled herself into her seat, her hands cradling the steaming cup and raising it to her lips slowly. Unsettled, he forced his gaze back to the book in front of him, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hands to get them to focus.

He had just realized he'd read the same sentence three times when her voice reached his ears once more.

"War and Peace, huh?"

He looked up at her, seeing her body turned towards him, a small smile on her face, and he couldn't help but notice how the dimples in her cheek seemed to make her face so much more pronounced. He nodded, smiling. "Personal favorite."

She nodded, shrugging her shoulders. "Yeah, it was on a recommended reading list one year in high school."

"Did you like it?" he asked, resting his elbows against the tabletop.

Brooke laughed, shaking her head. "I didn't read it," she said, smiling when he frowned. "I wasn't really the, uh…book kind of girl in high school."

Reid nodded, tilting his head to the side. "What kind of girl were you, then?"

He watched as her smile faded quickly, and her eyes dropped from his face to her hands in her lap.

"Not the kind that I'm too proud of," she said with a slightly bitter chuckle, swiping at a loose bang that had come undone from her ponytail.

She said it so softly, he had almost missed it. But even if he'd missed the words, the tone with which they were spoken was one he was all too familiar with.

He pursed his lips slightly, his eyes searching her face. "Well, from what I understand, you should be proud now," he said, smiling when she looked up at him. "You know, Brooke, as much as it might seem like it at times, our past doesn't define us. It might shape us into who we are, lead us on a certain path, but at the end of the day, it the decisions you make and how you feel about them that really matter. The past is just that: the past. It doesn't necessarily define who you are anymore than…standing in a garage makes you a Cadillac."

She barked out a laugh then, and it made his smile widen just slightly.

"Well, Dr. Reid," she said, leaning an elbow onto the back of her chair and arching an eyebrow at him. "I guess you are a genius, after all."

Reid smiled, opening his mouth to reply, but the chirping of his pager on his hip cut him off. Throwing her an apologetic shrug, he glanced down at the illuminated screen, recognizing the familiar code for a 911 conference, and he sighed. He raised his head, surprised to see what can only be described as an understanding smile on the pretty brunette's face. She nodded.

"Go on," she said, smiling. "Bad guys aren't going to catch themselves."

He smiled, nodding, and quickly rose to his feet, gathering his belongings and shoving them into his bag as he gulped down the last of his coffee in three quick swallows. Thankful that the piping hot liquid had cooled down significantly, he pulled his messenger bag over his shoulder and smiled at Brooke as he weaved his way through the tables.

"Spencer!"

He turned back when she called his name, and he watched as she smiled at him, shrugging.

"Thanks."

Reid nodded, ducking his head quickly when her smile widened, and hurried out the door, that uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach suddenly growing much more intense than ever before.

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"B.B.!!"

Brooke grinned as she dropped down into a crouch, tossing her bag to the side and spreading her arms wide open to catch the four-year-old boy that was racing towards her with surprising speed. She laughed when Jack threw his arms around her neck, and she wrapped her arms around him in kind, ignoring the dull pain that throbbed in her ribs at the contact.

"Hey, there, handsome," she said brightly, pulling back from his embrace slightly to look into his face. "Man, look how big you've gotten! You're almost as tall as your daddy!"

Jack's young face burst into a big grin, and she couldn't help but laugh when he giggled. "Noooo, B.B," he said, shaking his head.

Brooke smiled, ruffling his short blonde hair. "Well, maybe not yet, but pretty soon you will be."

"In which case, we'll all be in trouble."

She looked up at the sound of her aunt's voice, and took a hold of Jack's hand as she rose to her full height. She smiled at the friendly face of Haylee Hotchner, tilting her head to the side as she walked towards her. "Hi, Aunt Haylee."

Haylee grinned as she pulled her niece into a hug, clutching the slight girl to her closely. "Oh, Brooke, it seems like forever since I last saw you." She pulled back, hands reaching up to cup her cheeks as she pushed a few dark bangs from her eyes. "You look as beautiful as ever."

Brooke smiled, fighting against the tears that she could feel welling behind her eyes at the compliment. When was the last time Victoria had ever said something so nice to her? She had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from crying when she couldn't come up with a single instance. "So do you," she said, nodding. "I like your hair shorter."

Her aunt smiled and raised a hand to her hair self-consciously, running her fingers through the short bob. She shrugged. "Just needed a bit of a change," she said softly.

Brooke chuckled softly, smiling down at Jack as he swung their arms back and forth. "Tell me about it," she said. She tightened her grip on Jack's hand, looking back up at Haylee. "And this one! Are you sure he wasn't replaced by some crazy-fast growing alien or something? Because the last time I saw him, I swear he didn't even reach my knees. Now look at him!" She gasped playfully, putting one hand on her hip and looking down at her cousin. "Has someone been eating their veggies?"

Jack's face quickly scrunched up into a look of disgust at her statement, and both women couldn't help the barks of laughter that escaped their lips.

Shaking her head, Haylee put an arm around Brooke's waist, motioning towards the kitchen where the scent of fresh-brewed coffee was pouring from. "Come on, sweetheart," she said, leading the way down the hall. "We've got a lot to catch up on."

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"I hear you've got a visitor."

Hotch looked up from his desk to see David Rossi standing in his doorway, arms crossed over his chest, an amused smile on his bearded face. The older agent was dressed in his customary blue jeans with a red button down shirt tucked into them, his blue tie hanging slightly askew around his neck.

Hotch nodded, setting his ink pen aside. "Yes."

Rossi nodded, taking a few steps into the office. "It's all Garcia seems to be able to talk about," he said, chuckling. "You do realize that she's severely put off with you for not mentioning Brooke as your niece before now?"

Hotch sighed, nodding once more. "I've been told," he said, sitting back in his seat as his coworker and friend took the one across from his desk. "I'm honestly surprised you're just now mentioning Brooke. She's been in town for over a week now."

Rossi shrugged, crossing his hands over his stomach. "Figured you'd be getting enough mob fanfare with the younger generation. If you remember, I knew Brooke Davis before she was 'Brooke Davis,'" he said with a energetic gesture of his hands. He laughed, shaking his head. "Course, the last time I saw her she barely reached your hip and was solely focused on the Backstreet Boys concert she'd roped you into taking her to. How did that go, by way?"

Hotch grimaced, closing his eyes as memories of screaming tween girls and pubescent boys singing on multi big screens flashed through his mind. "Never. Again," he said softly, repeating the same phrase he'd muttered to his wife when he'd brought his over excited niece home that night.

Rossi laughed, shaking his head. "Well, I'm sure she's changed a bit since then. I read that, uh, that book her high school boyfriend wrote. What was it…something Ravens."

"An Unkindness of Ravens."

He snapped his fingers, nodding. "Yeah, that one," he said. "Talented kid, being able to make words flow like he did. Anyway…when I read that, I have to admit that sometimes I found it hard comparing the girl in that to the girl who used to visit you every summer."

Hotch sighed, nodding. Lucas Scott's book had certainly made a splash when it first hit bookshelves over four years ago. He could still see the look of disgust on his sister's face when Haylee had shown it to her. She'd said it was a disgrace; to have her daughter's sexual exploits exposed for the whole world to read. She hadn't even read the thing. She had no idea that it was such a small chapter in the novel. She didn't read about how much Brooke had changed and matured through the course of those two years. How she'd conquered fears and loved and lost, all for the better sake of someone else.

But then again, Victoria Davis didn't really know her daughter at all.

"She's different," he finally said, tapping his fingers against the desktop. He looked up and caught his friend's eye. "Brooke. She's not herself. It's something that I've noticed more and more since she arrived. She's skittish. She's up at all hours of the night. I know she hasn't slept through the night since she got here. She's quiet…"

"She's in a new town," Rossi said, shrugging. "She's somewhere she's really not familiar with. She's probably just thrown off a bit. Give her a bit more time and I'm sure--"

"I think someone hurt her, Rossi."

Rossi froze, his brow furrowing as he leaned towards the other agents. "Come again?"

Hotch sighed, reaching up to run a hand down his tired face. "I've been doing this job enough to notice the symptoms. The skittishness, the noticeable weight loss, the rash decisions. She signed over her whole company to her mother. Everything. She's been working towards that fashion line since her senior year of high school. Victoria was causing quite a bit of trouble for her, but Brooke doesn't stand down in the middle of a skirmish like that. She'd fight until she knew she'd either won or lost. There's no half-way when it comes to her.

"Then suddenly she just decides that it's not worth it anymore?" He shook his head. "It doesn't make sense, Dave. It would take something truly horrible for her to even think such a thing when it comes to her company. I know that. And I know that something had to have happened, something that she's still either reliving or too scared to face."

"And that's why you think she came here? She's running from someone?"

He shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe she just wanted to get as far away from Tree Hill as possible so she wouldn't have to deal with whatever it is. I don't know. But I know my niece. I know her bubbly personality and every little quirk that makes her who she is. And none of that is there anymore. There's just this…hollow, scared shell of a woman who seems so scared to even open her eyes in the morning."

Rossi sighed, sitting back in his seat. "Well, if there's one thing this job has taught us, it's to go with our instincts. Have you tried talking to her?"

"I haven't even broached the subject," he replied, shaking his head. "I'm honestly not sure how I would even bring it up. Maybe we do it everyday, but it's with complete strangers." He sighed. "Maybe I'm a little worried I won't be able to hear about it."

Rossi nodded. Hotch had always been protective of the little brunette that had been his shadow every summer since she was three. He could still remember the first time he'd met her, at one of the FBI annual picnics that don't really occur so annually anymore. She'd been the most adorable five year old he'd ever seen, with her hair in pigtails and wearing a pink sundress. She'd held onto to her uncle's hand as she skipped beside him, and her smile could have dazzled you no matter how far away you were standing. She'd meant the world to Hotchner.

Looking at him now, it was quite obvious that she still did.

"Maybe," he said softly, clearing his throat. "But you just have to keep in mind that sooner or later--like with any victim of a violent crime--she'll need to talk about it. It's the only way she'll be able to deal with it and move on. She's a talented girl, Aaron. Just because the whole Clothes Over Boys--"

"Bros."

"Whatever. Just because that company isn't hers anymore doesn't mean she can't get it back. She can start over. She's gotten herself established. I doubt that even Victoria Davis can sully her name enough that no one would take a chance on her again. The proof is right there in the clothes. And whatever else the company made."

Hotch cracked a smile, chuckling softly. "You'd better pray Garcia doesn't hear you talk like that."

"Then it better be a secret you take to the grave."

He laughed, shaking his head, and settled back into his chair.

"I mean it, Aaron. Maybe you just need to give her a little space. She's a young girl, and if something horrible happened to her like you think it did, all she probably wants right now is to try to forget it happened and get back to being that young girl. She's resilient, that much I remember. She'll come to terms with it eventually, whatever it is, and she'll come to you. But in the meantime, you need to go on about everything like you would if this was just an ordinary visit. The team was planning on a going out for drinks with weekend," he said, nodding with his head towards the bullpen where the team were scattered amongst the desks and computers. "Why don't you have her tag along? Get her out of the apartment, mix her in with real people. Could be all she wants right now is to feel like the normal kid she could always be with you."

Hotch nodded, smiling in spite of just how worried he felt at that moment. "Maybe that's a good idea."

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"Won't I be like…intruding on federal business or something?"

Brooke sat on the couch, her eyes glued to the newscast that was on the TV, as her uncle sat reading the newspaper in the chair next to her.

"There really won't be much business discussed, Brooke," Hotch answered, peering at her from around the newspaper. She had her knees drawn up to her chest, a defensive pose if he'd ever seen one. He frowned, silently scolding himself. _Don't read too far into things. You have no idea if anything really happened._

"I'm not really sure what I'd talk to any of them about," Brooke said, shrugging. "I don't really have much in common with a crack team of criminal investigators."

Her uncle shrugged. "Well, you've faced off against a psycho stalker with your best friend. That's something we do every week." He smiled when she sent him a glare. "Garcia will be there. I know she's been dying for a chance to sit down with you. I can't guarantee she'll ever let you leave, though, but I do know she'd be happy to see you." When she remained silent, her gaze once more on the television, he sighed, setting the paper to the side. "I just want you to enjoy your break, Brooke. Have a few drinks, meet some new friends. Maybe it will help make this whole transition a little easier. You never know. You just might find yourself having fun by accident."

Brooke smiled, shaking her head, and turned to look at her uncle. His face--a bit haggard from the violence and pain and horror he'd witnessed day in and day out for years--was fixed on the TV now, his attention diverted for the moment.

It was times like this when she wanted nothing more than to spill her guts to him. To confess her fear at closing her eyes at night, afraid that she'll see that masked face peering over her, or hear that emotionless voice that haunted her nightmares. She wanted to tell him how she had been beaten and humiliated, and how, deep down, she had a horrible fear that her mother was behind it.

How she couldn't bear to be around her friends and their happiness when she felt so angry and alone and frightened.

The news flashed to a commercial, and before her uncle could turn to look at her again, she'd wiped the despair from her face, merely smiling softly and shrugging.

"Fine, I'll come along," she said, stretching her legs out before rising to her feet. "But I make no promises to not drink my sorrows away and fall into the arms of some nameless stranger who'll make me forget everything that's ever bothered me."

She turned to pad the way to her bedroom, her socked feet silent against the floor, when she heard she rustling of the newspaper.

"Fat chance in hell I'll let THAT happen."

She laughed, shaking her head.

Maybe deciding to take this "vacation," as she'd told her friends it was, with her Uncle Aaron wasn't such a bad idea after all.

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**So yes…it's Rossi.**

**I spent a long amount of time wrestling with whether I wanted Gideon or Rossi to be in this story. I love both of them, but I had to go with Rossi for reasons that will appear in a few later chapters. **

**Next up, we've got a night out on the town with the BAU, which I'm so looking forward to writing. Brooke gets to know the team a little better, and Reid gets a little closer to our favorite fashion designer.**

**Review and let me know what you all thought of this chapter. I hope to get the next one up soon!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Breathing Room**

**A.N.: Man, it feels good to be back! I can't believe I've let my little baby story go ignored for so long! I'm so sorry guys—I've been a serious slacker. So thanks to all of you that totally whipped my butt into gear and got me to finally update! Hopefully this chapter makes up for the absence.**

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_One breath at a time._

This was the mantra Brooke repeated to herself as she followed her uncle into the sports bar the "team" was convening at. She dug her fingernails into the fabric of her coat, flashing her uncle a smile she desperately wished she could feel when he glanced over his shoulder at her.

_One breath at a time._

She knew the stares she was feeling on every inch of her skin were just in her head—there were no lingering visual evidence of her attack for people to fixate on. No bruises marred her pale face. No gashes bled across her arms.

So why did she feel like that was all they could really see?

_One breath at a time._

They weaved through the crowd, dodging drink-laden trays and raucous sports fans enjoying the big screen football action.

Across the room, she could see the smiling faces of the BAU agents she'd met a week ago, and she forced her smile to widen when they called out a greeting.

_Oh, God, I can't breathe…_

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"Brooke, do you remember David Rossi?"

Brooke looked from her uncle to the older, distinguished agent that rose from his seat, a smile on his bearded face. She tilted her head to the side, smiling softly. She nodded. "Yeah, I think so," she said, reaching out to take his hand when he extended his own. "From the Bureau picnics, right? You were always manning the barbeque with that silly apron."

Rossi shook his head and laughed, exchanging an amused glance with Hotchner. "Quite a good memory," he said, shaking the young woman's hand. "I'm surprised you recalled the apron, since it's something that most of the picnic's occupants forced out of their minds." He smiled when she chuckled. "Though, I guess what with your fashion designing talent, a good eye comes in handy."

Brooke fought to keep her smile from faltering even the slightest inch, and she shrugged, nodding as she dropped her hand back to her side. She dropped her gaze to the floor while she tried to recollect herself, therefore missing the meaningful glance the two agents at her side exchanged during her distraction.

Rossi watched as Brooke seemed to fight an inner battle for the briefest of moments, before her smile was just as radiant as it was when she was five years old. He smiled, motioning with his arm for her to head to the small, slightly crowded table that housed the rest of their team.

Hotch met Rossi's eyes as Brooke passed, and he sighed softly, his head giving the faintest nod.

_It's possible, _he seemed to say, and he watched as his friend's mouth tightened at the gesture.

Suddenly, Hotch realized that maybe this wasn't just him being overprotective of his niece. This was the fact that, yes, something horrible had happened to her. This was the truth that it wasn't just a "bad feeling."

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After about an hour of random chitchat and various drinks, Brooke was shocked to find herself relaxing surrounded by her uncle and his colleagues.

"Break my heart, why don't you?"

Brooke smiled and shook her head as she met the incredulous gaze of Derek Morgan across the table. She shrugged her shoulders. "Sorry…I guess I'm just a basketball girl."

Morgan shook his head, his smile a flash of white against his dark face. "Come on, now, Miss Davis," he teased, cradling his beer bottle in his hand as he leaned his elbow against the table. "289 first downs, 5,297 total offensive yards, 2,498 total rushing yards, which makes them, as of last year, third in the league for rushing yards. This is your home-state pride we're talking about here!"

The brunette merely smiled and shrugged her shoulders again, causing the agent to look over imploringly at his boss.

Hotch chuckled, shaking his head. "It's really no good trying, Morgan. She didn't even have a football team at her high school."

"It's true," Brooke said when Morgan glanced over at her in shock. "Tree Hill is home to the Tree Hill Ravens, who just happened to win the state championship our senior year, I might add. And whose star player, a Mr. Nathan Scott, will one day be the leading point guard for some top-notch NBA team. So who needs football?"

Morgan rolled his eyes. "Good Lord, woman, there is no hope for you."

Brooke's smile faltered slightly amidst the laughter around the table. _God, let's hope that's not true…_

As the night wore on, Brooke found herself engaging in conversations with the FBI agents, and she was surprised to see just how much of a variety this team seemed to consist of. Every single agent seemed to be so radically different from the other, and yet their team seemed to meld in a way that was almost unbelievable. There was a camaraderie among them that was so familiar to her small group of friends back home. All molded from a different clay, but belonging together just the same.

She was almost content to just sit back and watch them interact with each other, but just when she had started to, she was immediately pulled back in, either by Garcia—who she had come to love for her spontaneity and kind heart—or her uncle, who, as he promised, was determined she have a good time.

She came to learn that Rossi was the newest to the team, even though he was the one with the most experience. She remembered the kind-eyed older man from her visits during the summer with her uncle. She remembered how he seemed to ooze authority, and now here he sat, content to just be another member of the team.

Prentiss and J.J. were the lead female agents on the team, but completely different in their mannerisms. Prentiss seemed to take charge and stand tall, while J.J. was content to somewhat sit in the background. She learned that the young blonde agent was who ultimately decided which cases the team would take on, and which ones were deemed less in need of immediate action.

Brooke found a new kind of respect for J.J. Jareau. Someone who had to pour over files filled with death and murder and grief; who had to read every grisly account and every family's tear filled plea for help, and then decide which case would be taken and which would be added to an ever-growing file—always worrying about whether she'd made the right choice….

Someone like J.J. deserved more than just the respect Brooke felt.

Morgan was a bit of a contradiction in her book. He was a "ladies' man," if she'd ever seen one, but it was obvious that he treasured his job above any of life's pleasures that came his way. He was headstrong, and confident, and the way he seemed to hover in protection around the people he surrounded himself with made her feel…safe, a description that nearly had her laughing. Derek Morgan was a good man, as true to that definition as anyone could possibly get.

Penelope Garcia….she really wasn't sure she could find a way to describe the techno-savvy woman. She felt a kind of kinship with Garcia, one that she was honestly a bit surprised to feel. When she'd first heard her uncle talk about Garcia, she had been shocked, to say the least. It was hard to imagine someone so upbeat and friendly as she was to be one who stared at horror on her computer screen every day. She was jovial and bright, never once seeming to show any wear-and-tear of the horrors of her job. But, Brooke knew, people could pretend. They could fool you. And she knew that even if Garcia bounced with energy, and surrounded herself with color and happiness, she did it only to keep the horror at bay. She was a woman who had made the decision to not let the horror rule her life. And for that, Brooke was envious.

Her uncle Aaron, unsurprisingly, was the no-nonsense head of the group, who even now, off the clock and in a relaxed environment, seemed to barely crack a smile or let a laugh slip past his lips. Years of horror and evil had hardened his once youthful face, and the shadows in his eyes seemed to have darkened since the last time she'd seen him. But even as he sipped his glass of beer, his lips upturned in a slight smirk at something Morgan was saying, she couldn't help but feel that he felt responsible for every person sitting at this table. He felt that it was his duty to lead his team in the right direction—to protect them at any cost. And the same went for her, for different reason, obviously.

Brooke let her gaze fall on the youngest member of the team, and she sat back in her seat slightly as she studied Dr. Spencer Reid.

Of all the members of the team, he was the one that fascinated her. She wasn't sure if it was his youth or almost constant awkwardness that riveted her attention so. He reminded her slightly of Mouth, while at the same time, he was completely different. He actually was a genius, as she'd learned in the few conversations he'd participated in. He could state random statistics just as easily as she could stitch a pattern. It was almost like he used his brilliance as a shield, kind of like she'd used her popularity in high school. It that was all they saw, then they would never truly know what was happening underneath…

And underneath the intelligence, Brooke was sure that Reid was much more than meets the eye. He was cute, a term which she had never really used before. He wasn't devastatingly handsome, like Morgan. But he was cute, almost adorable in his geekish way. He was comfortable with his group of co-workers—his friends…but not so with her, she was realizing.

He could never really meet her eyes for a long amount of time. Just as quickly as they would look at each other at the same time, he would drop his eyes away, either to his drink or to one of the other patrons of the table.

A few times, she'd felt his gaze on her, but instead of shifting uncomfortably as she did with her uncle, she just…was. It didn't bother her, the way Reid stared. And she really didn't understand why.

"He's gorgeous, isn't he?"

Brooke jumped slightly when she heard Garcia whisper softly next to her ear, and she pulled her gaze away from Reid to look at her. Garcia's ruby-red lips were upturned in a smile, and she turned to follow the woman's gaze. She smiled when she saw that the object of her attention was none other than Derek Morgan, who stood just behind Reid smiling flirtatiously at a passing waitress. "You and Morgan, huh?" she asked, taking a sip of her drink.

Garcia laughed, shaking her head. "Oh, no, sweetie," she said, smiling. "It is strictly look-but-do-not-touch with my Coco Prince. But I will admit that I do LOVE to look."

Brooke laughed, shaking her head, and turned her head once more. Her eyes met the inquisitive eyes of Spencer Reid, and she watched as an array of expressions seemed to cross his youthful face in the span of a few seconds. She smiled, nodding her head at him from across the table, and after a moment he smiled—a bit uncertainly—back at her, before turning his attention to a question Rossi posed his way.

Brooke pursed her lips, taking another sip of her drink.

Why did Spencer Reid draw her attention as much as he did?

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"Is everyone sure they don't need a cab?"

Brooke chuckled softly at the fatherly tone of her uncle's voice as she followed everyone outside, her arm linked with Garcia's as they stepped out of the door. _Leave it to Uncle Aaron to be the responsible one, even with a group of trained agents._

She smiled as Garcia squeezed her arm in farewell, agreeing to join her for lunch later in the week. She wrapped her arms around herself as she watched the woman nearly skip to her uncle and Morgan, who stood against the curb of the nearly deserted street. She smiled at the way the two men seemed to grin at her appearance, and she was suddenly thankful that Penelope Garcia was around to make her uncle smile like that.

She heard a shuffling to her side, and she looked over to see Reid bidding farewell to J.J., nodding his head as his steps slowed until he stood at her side. He smiled at her, and she couldn't help but return it. "Do all of your FBI get-togethers get as crazy as this?" she asked, nodding her head towards a slightly staggering Prentiss who was being helped into the passenger seat of Rossi's car.

Reid laughed, shrugging his shoulders, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his worn jacket. "Hardly," he said. "We rarely have time for get-togethers like this. I guess we just try to enhance every second we have."

Brooke nodded. "That's a good philosophy to have."

She watched as Reid nodding, his Adam's apple seeming to bob in his throat. "Did you enjoy yourself?" he asked.

She nodded, smiling. "Yeah…it's been awhile since I just…hung out with people. No talking business or crisis's or personal problems. I have to admit it was nice. You guys are some team," she said, motioning to the other agents. "You guys works well, I can tell."

"We try."

She laughed, and was pleasantly surprised when she was glad he did too.

But not as surprised as she was at what she said next.

"We'll have to do this again sometime…you know, when there's not so many roaring sports fans cutting into every conversation."

She watched as Reid's brow furrowed slightly, as if he was just as surprised at her words as she was. She was just about to open her mouth and defuse the situation when he cleared his throat.

"Sure," he said softly, nodding his head. He raised his eyes to meet hers. "Yeah, that'd be nice."

Brooke smiled, her gaze dropping the damp pavement as she nodded her head. "Good," she said softly, shifting slightly on her feet. "Well, you know where to find me."

He nodded, and threw her a shy smile before waving quickly, turning on his heel and heading towards his car.

She watched him walk away, shaking her head at the events that had seemed to unfold in just a few short minutes. Had she asked him out? Is that what happened? And if she did, had he said yes?

She was honestly completely clueless.

Since when did any guy make Brooke Davis clueless?

She was still asking herself that same question as she rode in the car next to her uncle, her eyes watching the lights of D.C. as they flashed past the window.

"Did you have a good time?" Hotch asked, his eyes firmly set on the road.

Brooke looked over at him, nodding. "I did," she said softly, smiling. "Thanks for making me come. I like your team."

"I think the team likes you as well," he replied, smiling slightly. "I think you're the first person to ever render Morgan completely speechless. He'd never heard of such a thing as a football-less high school, let alone a former cheerleader who didn't follow football."

She laughed softly, turning her head and leaning it against the window.

Hotch watched her from the corner of his eyes. She was quiet. Subdued. And it worried him.

"Brooke…if something was wrong, you'd tell me, wouldn't you?"

He watched as she jerked in her seat, her hazel eyes whipping around to stare at him. "What do you mean?"

She knew exactly what he meant. "I mean, if something had happened or if there was something that was bothering you…you feel that you could come to me with it, don't you?" He watched as her eyes searched his face for a long second before she turned her head to stare out the window again. "Because you could. With anything. You know that, don't you?"

He saw her lips quiver slightly in the passing streetlight, and he caught the way her eyes closed tightly when she turned her head further away from him. And then she was smiling softly at him, her head nodding. "Yeah, I know," she said softly, turning to look at him. "I'm fine, Uncle Aaron. Really."

Hotch bit back his response, wanting to shout at her that, no, she wasn't fine. She was hurting, he could see it. Why couldn't she just tell him? He couldn't fix it if she didn't let him know what needed fixing.

But he didn't say any of that. He just smiled at her, nodding, and turned his attention back to the road.

She wasn't going to tell him.

He supposed he'd just have to find out on his own.

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**Yay, for an update! Hopefully this chapter was kick-ass enough to make up for the long absence. I swear that it will not happen again. My laptop is getting replaced this week, and I will be back to updating on a regular basis! In the meantime, I hope this was to your liking!**

**Coming up in the next chapter, Hotch does a little digging, and Brooke and Reid—GASP—go on a "date." But…does it end the way we all hope it will?**

**Let me know what you guys think!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Breathing Room**

**Author's Notes: Yep…the lame one has once again returned. I can't believe how long it's taken me to update my baby story. I truly did not forget about it. Life just seemed to get so hectic. But, it has since slowed down, so I promise to update much more often. Thank you all for sticking in for this little underdog story! It means more to me than I can say!**

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Brooke sat at a corner table in the coffee bistro, her hazel eyes staring out the window at the bustling street, her pencil hovering over the half-finished sketch on the table top.

Midday in Washington D.C. The streets were crowded, hundreds of bodies swarming the sidewalks as they fought to get to his place or that place. Hundreds of people, hundreds of voices…

But all she could hear, all she could see…

Was him.

She sighed, looking down at the sketch before her.

Rocker-glam-chic, with just the slightest hint of elegance thrown in. A wedding dress fit for a wannabe badass like Peyton.

She smiled wistfully as she shaded a certain spot around the neckline. Wannabe badass or not, Brooke was happy for her best friend.

Even though she herself was drowning.

"Brooke."

She looked up at the sound of her name, and saw Reid walking towards her table. She smiled, letting the pencil drop to the side as she watched him head hesitantly to her table, a Styrofoam cup in his hand, and his leather messenger bag slung over his shoulder. She had to admit, his goofy, somewhat embarrassed smile was very cute.

"Dr. Reid," she said, smiling. "I take it you're getting your daily caffeine fix?"

Reid smiled, bobbing his head in a nod. "You too, I see?"

Brooke shrugged, lifting her cup to him in a toast. "Can't live without it."

Reid nodded, running a hand through his hair. "Actually, that's a pretty accurate statement. Caffeine is an addictive substance, and like any other take such a drastic toll on your body, that when you withhold it, especially after relying on it for an extended amount of time, the effects can be catastrophic. I mean, people take coffee so frequently that it interferes with their appetite for food, so all day, when normal appetite appears, they quell it with more caffeine. Meanwhile, their nervous system has been taken to a state of high tension because of it, and while the mind acts quicker, it's also more sensitive and gradually more irritable. In fact, the entire nervous system gradually becomes more irritable. Emotions are sporadic, tempers are triggered on a snap-"

Brooke laughed suddenly, a wide smile spreading across her face. She shook her head, waving her hand apologetically when he frowned at her. "I'm sorry," she said, chuckling. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, it's just…when Uncle Aaron talked about you, I always thought he exaggerated." She looked at him, smiling. "You really are a genius, huh?"

Reid laughed, shrugging. "That depends on who you ask, I suppose." He smiled, motioning to the empty seat across from her. "Do you…mind if I join you?"

Brooke smiled again, nodding. "Sure."

She watched as he settled into the seat, laying his messenger bag to the side of the table and bringing his cup of coffee to his lips. She couldn't quite figure out why, but at that moment, she felt very…normal. She didn't feel like eyes were watching her from every corner of the room, or that there where whispered conversations going on behind cupped hands. Spencer Reid could somehow, in the course of just a few seconds, make her feel like she was just Brooke Davis again. Not the victim, not the statistic. Just…Brooke.

Reid's eyes landed on the sketch in front of her, and he raised his eyebrows, motioning to it with his cup. "New fashion line?" he asked, watching the way her fingers slid across the half finished design, seeming to almost attempt the obscure it from his sight.

She shook her head. "Wedding dress," she said. "My best friend Peyton is getting married in a few months. It's kind of tradition…that I make the wedding dress when it comes to my group of friends back home."

Reid nodded, his eyes taking in every intricate detail of the sketch. "Wow," he said. "You're amazingly talented." He looked up to see her smiling and rolling her eyes, and he grinned. "Really! I've never seen so much attention to detail in just a sketch. I can only imagine what the finished product will look like."

Brooke smiled, shrugging her shoulders. "Thanks," she said softly, nearly biting the inside of her cheek to keep the tears at bay. How talented could she be, with no company to help show it?

"You know, I don't mean to sound rude or anything, but I'm finding it a little difficult to see Hotch as your uncle."

Brooke arched an eyebrow in question, tilting her head to the side. "Well, he's my mom's big brother."

Reid shook his head. "No, no—I can see the resemblance. There are strong physical attributes that you both possess, your dark coloring being one of the most obvious. But, despite the close bond you both have, your personalities seem to be completely opposite." He noticed her frown, and rested his elbows on the table, leaning towards her slightly. "I've been working with your uncle for years, and I've found him to be fair and rational, but I've also seen him be…distant and taciturn. But then there's you. And while you also seem fair and rational, you're also warm and bright and enthusiastic. You seem to be the polar opposite of Hotch."

Brooke listened as he spoke, recalling the numerous memories of her uncle she had catalogued in her mind. Over the years, it did seem that he had mellowed out. He was still Uncle Aaron, who could make her smile and laugh and would sit through countless hours of Monty Python movies with her over the weekend. But it was true. His smile didn't make as many appearances as it once did.

But then again, neither did hers.

She shrugged, shifting in her seat. "I don't know. Sometimes I think we're more alike than people think. Growing up, I spent more time with Uncle Aaron than both my parents combined, and I've kind of…adopted parts of him, I guess. I mean, we've both seen some pretty horrible things, but still try to see the good in the world. He tends to shoulder more responsibility than he actually needs to, and that was pretty much my story the last year of high school. We both want a normal, happy family, but sadly, it's not looking too fantastic for either of us. We both had pretty fabulous careers but gave them up for something more…"

"More?"

She froze at the sound of Reid's voice, and she raised her eyes to meet his, seeing the slight confusion in them.

She sighed, smiling as she shrugged. "I don't own Clothes Over Bros. anymore."

Reid frowned. "What happened?" he asked.

"Life." Brooke laughed. "Or lack of, I guess. I mean…I'm 23 years old, and I have more money than I know what to do with. I've seen the most glamorous cities in the world and walked a hundred red carpets, but…it wasn't my life." She blinked, horrified when she felt the sting of tears in her eyes. She raised a hand quickly to wipe them away, but knew that they hadn't been ignored by the pair of eyes that obviously missed nothing.

"Anyway…I decided I wanted to be Brooke again. I wanted to laugh and have fun and just remember what it was like to just…BE, you know?"

Reid was silent as she tried to compose herself, swiping at the tears that she seemed embarrassed to be crying.

Wasn't this the exact thing Victoria said made her a failure at business? Emotion?

"Except you haven't," Reid said softly.

Brooke raised her eyes.

"You're good at pretending. But you don't really laugh and have fun." He smiled then, a sad smile that she had seen mirrored in her reflection. "I recognize the…shadows in your eyes, Brooke. I've seen them in hundreds of victims, even in…myself." He licked his lips nervously, forcing himself to meet her eyes. "My father left when I was a kid, and my mother…was an undiagnosed schizophrenic. Until I had her committed when I turned 18." He tried to ignore the sadness he saw in her eyes as he spoke, shaking his head slightly. "Those shadows…no matter how hard you try to convince everyone else that you're fine, the shadows prove you're not."

Brooke stared at him as he spoke. She would never have guessed about Spencer Reid, about the secret behind the man he had become, that it was so heartbreaking. As kid, she'd had Uncle Aaron and Aunt Haylee, but Reid…he'd had no one. But to see him now…

She let out a shaky sigh. "When do they go away?" she asked quietly.

Reid smiled softly, shrugging. "That depends on when you feel like you can move forward and…not dwell on what used to be." He watched her nod slowly. "You're a lot more than just a clothing line, Brooke. And trust me…I'm a genius."

Brooke laughed, ducking her head so that her dark hair framed her face, and he smiled. She really was pretty…inside as well, he was starting to see. Maybe Morgan did know what he was talking about…

The buzzing of his beeper in his pocket tore his attention from his wanderings, and he held up a finger to Brooke in apology as he glanced at the number. It was J.J., informing him that they had another case. He sighed, shoving the beeper deep into his pocket. He smiled, shrugging. "Duty calls."

Brooke nodded, smiling, as her fingers wrapped around her coffee cup. "Doesn't it always?" she asked.

She watched as he gathered his things, his dark eyes traveling over the small area around them to ensure he hadn't left anything in haste, before he rose to his feet, pulling the strap of his messenger bag onto his shoulder.

She was probably crazy—no, scratch that, she WAS crazy—when she looked up at him, and before he could turn to leave, asked, "Do you…maybe want to have dinner this weekend?"

She watched as his head whipped around to stare at her, and she winced inwardly. _Sure, Brooke. You completely unloaded a crap load of baggage onto the guy. I'm sure he's jumping at the chance._

She shrugged, smiling self-consciously. "I don't really know anyone in town…apart from my family. And I'm sure I kind of seem like a crazy, emotional person right now, but…it'd be nice, you know, to…move forward? You know…have a little fun and laugh…preferably with someone who's kind of been there too?"

She watched as his face seemed to register everything she was saying, and she mentally kicked herself for blurting it all out.

Reid was, for the first time, honestly speechless. True, he'd been thinking the very same thought just moments ago, but to hear the words coming out Brooke's mouth was…staggering.

He smiled slightly, leaning back onto the heels of his feet as he nodded. "Sure…sure, dinner sounds…nice."

Brooke smiled, nodding. "Good," she said, relieved.

"Yeah…yeah, I'll uh…I'll give you a call tomorrow. Maybe plan for, um…Sat—er—Saturday?"

She nodded again, shrugging. "Sounds good."

"Good…good," he said, smiling. He watched her laugh softly, and he was relieve to see that she seemed just as nervous as he did. He was jolted back to the matters at hand when his beeper went off again, and he smiled, waving at her as he turned. "See you soon…then."

Brooke nodded, waving in farewell herself, and watched as he made this way through the small crowd, throwing her one last look over his shoulder before he disappeared through the door.

She smiled, leaning back in her seat.

Moving forward….

She laughed softly, shaking her head as she picked up her pencil again.

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Reid could feel the smile on his face as he walked into the conference room, and he didn't miss the look Morgan gave him as he passed him to his seat. From the corner of his eye, he could see Morgan turn his chair to follow his movements, his hand cradling his chin as he watched him lower into his chair, shuffling his bag to the side.

"Morning, Pretty Boy," Morgan drawled, his eyebrows raised slightly.

Reid nodded at him, his eyes transfixed on the blank screen fixed on the wall. "Morning," he replied.

"In a good mood today? I'm just asking because you've got one hell of a dopey ass smile on your face."

"Yeah, I'm good," he mumbled, his eyes darting to his friend and back. "Just um…waiting on the rest of the team."

"Uh-huh…you're hiding something. And I'm guessing, since I've seen that smile numerous times on people other than you, it involves a young lady." There was a teasing tone to Morgan's voice, and it made Reid smile slightly. "Come on now, Reid! Don't leave a brother hanging. Did we meet a young, mystery girl that you're not telling me about?"

Reid chuckled, looking over at him as he raised his cup to his lips again. "No, you've met her."

Morgan grinned, laughing as he clapped his friend on the back. "My man," he said, shaking his head. "So, I've met her, huh? I'm guessing recently, since that smile hasn't been on your face since the whole Lyla thing a few years ago."

Reid could see the cogs turning in Morgan's head, and he laughed a little to himself. The pairing of he and Brooke wasn't one you thought of automatically, he admitted that. Looking over, he could see Morgan going through the last few weeks in his head, and Reid frowned. "How many women have you met lately?"

Morgan's trademark grin appeared at that comment, and Reid sighed. "Never mind."

"So tell me, Reid…who is this lucky lady?"

"There's no 'lucky lady', Morgan. It's just a dinner between two acquaintances. There's hardly anything at all romantic about that."

"Except for the whole, man-woman-dinner thing." Morgan laughed. "Alright, so who's the 'acquaintance' then?"

Reid sighed, leaning his elbows on the arms of his chair as he swiveled it to peer at him. "Brooke and I are going to dinner on Saturday."

The older man's eyebrows rose high on his forehead as he leaned forward, his arms braced on his knees. "Brooke Davis?"

"Yes. And it's simply a dinner. She doesn't know many people here in town apart from Hotch and her aunt. It's never easy being the stranger in a different town, so it's just a form of…welcoming. Between two friends."

Morgan grinned. "So we went from 'acquaintance' to 'friend', huh?"

Reid rolled his eyes, turning back to the blank TV screen, as he took another sip from his coffee.

"Man…Brooke Davis…Now, didn't I tell you she was the whole package, Reid? And you, Mr. Know-It-All-Brainiac didn't believe me. You two must have been spending an awful lot of time together these last couple weeks if you're headed to dinner already." He grinned when his taunts her studiously ignored by his friend, and he chuckled. "Well, hey. I think it's great. You know…the whole…'welcoming' thing. Over dinner. Between you and Brooke." He clicked this tongue. "Yep, nothing at all romantic about that."

Reid closed his eyes, shaking his head.

It had never taken so long for a team meeting to get started.

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**Aww…I love writing Brooke and Reid fluff!**

**Hopefully this was a good starter chapter for their big "date." I thoroughly enjoyed their whole exchange, and the fact that Reid could so openly connect with what Brooke's going through, even if their situations are very different. Hopefully nobody thought it was too jumping-the-gun.**

**And, can I just say, that I have never had more fun writing a character exchange than the one between Reid and Morgan? *grin***

**Anyway, hopefully this made up for the absence, which I again apologize for and promise won't happen again. I'm excited to hear what you guys think!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Breathing Room**

**A.N. I love you guys! I get so overwhelmed every time I get reviews for these chapters. I'm so glad you guys love the idea of Brooke and Reid as much as I do.**

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Hotch could do nothing but stare down at the cellphone in his hand, his brow furrowed as he recounted the conversation he'd just finished. Once upon a time, Peyton Sawyer had been Brooke's best friend. They hadn't gone anywhere or done anything without each other. Sometimes it had almost appeared as if they were two halves of the same coin.

But, clearly, things had changed.

"_Hey, Mr. Hotchner! It's Peyton Sawyer."_

_Hotch closed the door to his office as he made his way towards his desk. "Peyton, thank you for returning my call." He left off the part that it was four days ago that he'd left the message for his niece's blonde haired friend._

"_Yeah, I'm sorry it's taken so long. Things have been crazy around here. It's good to hear from you, though. I don't think I've seen you since graduation."_

_Tree Hill High graduation was the last time he'd been in Tree Hill. And he had to admit, the perky, happy voice on the other end of the phone line was a complete contradiction to the broody, sullen one he'd heard for over a decade._

"_It's been awhile," he replied, settling down into his chair. _

"_Yeah. How's Brooke? We keep missing each other every time I call."_

_She'd been avoiding Peyton, it would seem._

"_Actually, she's the reason I'm calling," he broached, his eyes traveling to the small picture of Brooke and Jack that was taped to the back of his file folder. "Can I ask you why she decided to visit D.C.?"_

_He heard murmuring in the background, and the deep voice of Lucas Scott could be heard. Peyton broke away for one moment, laughing and bidding the man goodbye. She was back a moment later, barely murmuring an apology. "Uh, you know, I'm not sure. She just said she hadn't seen you in awhile and that she kind of needed a break. Her mom's been a real bitch lately. No offence," she added quickly, seeming to remember that he and Victoria shared a blood relation._

"_No, I'm familiar with the situation. She's been a bit…withdrawn lately. I was just wondering if anything else has happened recently?"_

"_Um…no…I mean, one of Lucas' ball players got killed in a robbery, but Brooke didn't know Quentin. I mean, this thing with her mom has been weighing on her. And then there's the fall down the stairs."_

_Hotch frowned. "What fall down the stairs?"_

_Peyton laughed. "Geez, Brooke was doing laundry and got tangled up in a sheet and fell down the stairs. She can be a real klutz sometimes, you know? Anyway, she was a little down for awhile after that, but she perked up a bit. Then she said she was going to go visit you for awhile, and I told her I thought it was a great idea. Kind of get away, maybe not be so reminded of Victoria and all that. She sounded awesome on the phone message I got yesterday. She called to say she was emailing a couple sketches she did for my wedding dress. I mean, she sounded fine. Said she was having a good time."_

"_She mentioned that," Hotch replied absently. "Congratulations, Peyton."_

"_Thanks. It all happened pretty fast, you know? But Brooke's been great about the whole wedding planning thing and all that. I mean, I don't know, Mr. Hotchner. She's been doing pretty great the last few months. I really don't know why she'd be depressed. She could be homesick, I guess, but I don't really know. But listen, I've got to get off here. I've got a meeting at my label I've got to get to."_

_He nodded. "Of course," he said. "Well, thank you for the input, Peyton. Maybe I'm just reading a bit too into it."_

"_Yeah, maybe. I mean, it's Brooke, right? She's pretty resilient."_

"_She is. Well, congratulations again. I won't keep you any longer."_

"_Thanks! Hey, maybe we'll see you at the wedding? I know Brooke would love it if you were there."_

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And that was it.

He found it hard to believe that after over a decade of friendship between the two girls, Peyton could be so nonchalant about whatever trials Brooke was going through. Despite Peyton's misgivings—the Lucas-Brooke-Peyton love triangle was enough to give him a migraine for a week—Brooke had been adamant that she and Peyton would be best friends forever.

So why did it seem like she was being left behind in the dust while her so-called best friend got her happy ending?

Hotch sighed, leaning back in his chair and raising his eyes to the ceiling as he crossed his hands over his abdomen. Peyton's comment about the fall down the stairs baffled him. It was true, Brooke wasn't the most graceful of people. He had lost count the number of scraped knees and bruises he'd bandaged over the years. It certainly hadn't dwindled with age, either, when he recalled her trip and slide down the hill of the park with Jack a year ago. Of course, Brooke being Brooke had brushed it off and turned it into a bit of a game for his son, one that Jack had constantly tried to replicate with him and his mother, much to their despair. After all, they weren't as young as Cousin B.B.

But a fall down the stairs, followed by a period of depression? It rang oddly similar to cases of domestic violence he'd come across over the years. A fall down the stairs. Ran into a door. Slipped in the shower.

The fact that she'd left this little tidbit unmentioned just added to his suspicion.

He closed his eyes, his face tightening with final resignation.

He had to find out what happened to her.

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"What. Happened?"

Brooke couldn't help but smile as she walked along the sidewalk at the side of Penelope Garcia, shrugging her shoulders.

"No, no, no," Garcia interjected, shaking her head adamantly, her multicolored hair bobbing around her face. "You do not get to blurt out 'I've got a date with Reid,' and then just jump into 'how about pasta for lunch?' No can do, fashionista. Garcia does not roll that way."

"What do you want me to say?" Brooke asked, laughing even as she felt a little flutter in her chest at the thought of the geekish, handsome genius she'd propositioned just yesterday. "It just kind of came out of nowhere…I really can't even tell you exactly how it came about, it just did and we just…did."

Garcia stared at her as they kept their slow pace, her bespectacled eyes wide behind their thin frames, her ruby red lips upturned in an astonished smirk. "Oh, Sweet Pea…if you knew just how juicy this all is."

Brooke laughed again, rolling her eyes as she pushed her hair behind her ear.

She was coming to realize just how much she enjoyed spending time with Garcia. She was so different from any other friend she'd had. She didn't care about how different she may look to other people. She wore bright colors, changed her hair on a weekly basis…she was confident in who she was, no matter how other people perceived her.

Brooke was envious of her.

But Garcia was also kind, with a bigger heart than anyone she'd ever known. She'd suffered a horrible loss when she was younger, losing both of her parents in a split second, and yet she walked with a bounce in her step and smile on her face. It made her start to realize that everyone survived, and they didn't have to be so sad about it.

"Why is it juicy, exactly?"

"Because, the last girl that Reid dated—IF you can even call it 'dating,' considering it was a girl involved with a case that just happened to fancy our young genius doctor—was quite a while ago. Like…A WHILE ago. Lyla something or other from Los Angeles. An actress, if I recall correctly. Anyway, minor details. The point is, is that Reid doesn't do the whole girl thing. As much as I love Boy Wonder, when it comes to women and flirting and all that jazz, he is very much an emotional retard. Not that it's a bad thing, mind you. I honestly find it rather…"

Brooke smiled softly as Garcia searched for the proper word. "Endearing," she filled in softly.

Garcia grinned. "Endearing," she echoed. "My God, Brooke Davis…you are blushing."

"Ugh," Brooke groaned, raising her eyes to the sky as Garcia linked her arm with hers. "Okay, let's just…skip the whole embarrassing conversation for a few minutes. Let's talk about something else."

Garcia laughed even as she nodded, before she launched into a conversation about Kevin Lynch, her not-so-secret boyfriend at Quantico.

Brooke was ashamed to admit that she was only half-listening as they walked on down the road, her mind drifting back to that night she and her uncle had been driving home from the sports bar. He'd looked over at her with such concern that night. His voice had been soft, betraying just how much he truly cared for his only niece. He'd told her he was there for anything she needed—that if there were anything she needed to tell him, he would listen.

She was starting to think she hadn't fooled him at all.

In that moment, she'd wanted nothing more than to confess, right then and there, just what had driven her to flee Tree Hill. She'd wanted to scream and cry and ask her uncle how she was ever supposed to feel safe again when nightmares plagued her every night.

"Garcia," she asked softly during a lull in conversation, watching from the corner of her eye as the blonde woman turned her head to look at her. "You've been working with Uncle Aaron for a long time, right?"

"Yep," Garcia answered happily. "I've been apart of the BAU since Hotch took it over years ago."

"And he seems pretty fair, right? I mean, when it comes to the things you see, and the people you come into contact with. The victims. He keeps a pretty level head, right?"

The tech analyst frowned slightly. "No…not always. The thing about this job, Brooke…if you can look at the things we do everyday, listen to the stories, talk to the people…if you can do all that and not be affected by it…it's time to find a new profession. Hotch feels our cases more than J.J. does, I think sometimes. So…no…I don't think he's always level headed and fair when it comes to the cases we work."

Brooke nodded, letting her eyes travel across the street in front of them as she walked.

If he couldn't be level headed with strangers, how would he be handle the truth about what had happened to one of his own?

"Why do you ask?" Garcia inquired, brows furrowed as she studied the lovely girl next to her. She'd be a fool to say that she didn't recognize those shadows in her eyes. Something was plaguing Brooke Davis, and it was so big that it had sent her running to her uncle for help, whether she realized it herself or not.

Brooke took a deep breath. "Garcia, have you ever had a secret?"

"Are we talking dirty movies hidden in the underwear drawer or dead body hidden in the basement?"

Brooke laughed and shook her head at her companion. "God, what kind of secrets are you hiding, Penelope Garcia?"

Garcia shrugged. "I'd tell you, dear, but then I would have to kill you." She smiled. "See? A pretty smile like yours should never be absent from your face. Now…secret? Have I ever had one? Yes. Everyone has. Some more severe than others. And I'm assuming you have one?" The young girl pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, keeping her gaze focused on the street ahead of them. "Is that why you're in D.C.? Because of your secret?"

Brooke sighed, shrugging. "It's eating away at me, Penelope," she said, her voice cracking as she spoke softly. "The last few months have been so hard, and I just thought…'If I can just see Uncle Aaron and just talk to him about it all…'" She shook her head. "But I can't. It's like there's this constant fear is gagging me every time I decide to talk to him about it."

"Brooke, are you in trouble?"

"No," Brooke laughed, swiping at her damp eyes. "No, it's nothing like that. It's just that…something happened to me. And I think it's changed everything. And I'm starting to worry that I'll never get back to who I was before it all happened."

Garcia stopped them in the middle of the street, grasping the younger girl's shoulders and turning her so they were face to face. "Okay…despite the fact that all this skirting around your secret is killing me—and it truly is, mind you—I'm not going to push. But I am telling you, Brooke, that this fear you're talking about? It only gets worse if you don't talk to someone. Take it from someone who's been there, okay? You have no idea the relief it is to pour your out to someone. You came here for a reason. Deep down, you know that Hotch is the one person you can do that to. It is clear to anyone that has a pair of eyes in their noggin that you mean everything to him. However bad you think your secret is, it's not going to change the way he feels about you. You're still going to be the same amazing, beautiful, kind hearted niece of his that you've always been. No doubt in my mind. But you have to take that first step. Because I'm telling you, as someone who has worked for profilers for a long time, he already knows something is up. So…make the first move. Free yourself from that fear."

Brooke nodded, her eyes fixed on Garcia's. She knew the perky tech analyst was right. In over 22 years, the only place she'd ever felt safe—the only person who'd ever been able to make her feel safe—was Uncle Aaron. Uncle Aaron, with his kind smile and his hugs that could make it seem like no monster under the bed could ever come near her. This was the first place she'd thought of to run to. And she knew it was because if anyone could help her—if anyone could make her feel safe again—it was him.

She smiled, nodding her head. "You sure Reid's the genius around here, Penelope?"

Garcia scoffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Why take that away from him? It's the only thing apart from his cutie-patootie looks that he's got going for him." She smiled when she heard Brooke laugh, and she took the girl's hand as they headed on their way. "So…what exactly do you wear on a date with a boy genius?"

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"What do you wear on a date with a fashion designer?"

Reid sighed as he looked over at Morgan, seeing his friend staring intently at the blank projector screen in front of them.

"I mean, she could judge every article of clothing you have and you'd never know it."

"Could we change the subject please?" Reid asked, throwing up his hands in agitation. His dinner with Brooke was all Morgan had been able to talk about for days.

Morgan grinned, his white teeth cutting a smile across his dark face. "What? Am I messing with your nerves there, Reid? Getting a little nervous? Hey, I don't blame ya. I mean, dating a smokin' girl who just happens to be Hotch's pride and joy of a niece? I'd sure as hell be nervous, too."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Morgan saw the abrupt change on Reid's face, and he couldn't help but grin. "Ahhh…you didn't think about that, did you?"

And he hadn't. How hadn't he? After all, that was how he met Brooke in the first place. He was taking Hotch's niece out to dinner on Saturday.

He was dating his boss' niece. His niece that he clearly viewed as a daughter.

For the first time, Reid was actually questioning just how much a genius he was.

**000000000000**

***Grin* I love Reid.**

**So I was going to put their date in this chapter, but for some reason they just didn't want to cooperate. Instead, you get a little glimpse into the dynamics of the characters. I'm glad to see that Brooke really isn't fooling a lot of people, trying to keep her secret under wraps.**

**And sorry if some of you didn't like how Peyton was on the phone. I used to be a huge Breyton friendship fan, but I've since learned that Peyton was always a little selfish with Brooke. So that's just kind of how her and Hotch's interaction turned out. Hopefully you guys don't mind.**

**Let me know what you all thought!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Breathing Room**

**I love you all…you guys seriously make it awesome to write stories. Your feedback is amazing to me, and I love that you guys care so much about my odd little pairing.**

**So, a treat for you all: A Brooke and Reid date.**

**Enjoy!**

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"I'm going out tonight."

Hotch couldn't help but be delighted at the announcement his niece had made when he walked through the door that night. She'd been walking through the living room in her bathrobe, her long dark hair piled atop her head in loose curls. Her smiling face was made up in the classy way he'd always noticed Brooke to look. He'd played it cool, merely nodding his head and murmuring under his breath, but inside he was glad. Going out was a sign of dealing.

Somehow, it had escaped his mind to ask with whom she was going out, though.

So when he opened the door a short time later, he was surprised to see Reid standing in the hallway. He frowned, folding the newspaper under his arm. "Reid," he said, unable to hide the surprise in his voice.

Reid stood in the hallway, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he shifted on his feet. "Hotch," he said, smiling nervously.

"This is a bit of a surprise," Hotch said. "What brings you?"

The younger agent opened his mouth to reply, but he stopped when he caught sight of something—or, rather, SOMEONE—over his shoulder.

Hotch turned, smiling when he saw Brooke making her way towards the door, her jacket and purse slung loosely over her folded arms. She was beautiful, wearing a dark purple dress that fell to her calves, a clunky black belt cinched tightly around her waist. A delicate sparkling necklace was around her neck, a matching pair of studs in her ears. She nearly glowed, standing there next to him, and he couldn't help but continue smiling. "Don't you look lovely?"

Brooke smiled, ducking her head slightly in the adorable way that Halyee always loved, before her eyes raised to look out the door at Reid.

"You do," Reid said, clearing his throat. "You do look…lovely."

Hotch's gaze slid between the two of them, noticing the way Brooke's cheeks were tinged a slight pink, and the way Reid seemed to shift even more uncomfortably on his feet. "Oh." He then noticed that Reid's dark red shirt was a bit dressier than his usual garb, and his shoulder length hair had been combed into submission. "_Oh._"

Realization dawned on him, and his eyes moved to meet the bright ones of his niece. "So…you're going out with Reid."

"Just to dinner," Brooke said, shrugging her shoulders.

"Kind of a…belated welcome-to-town…thing," Reid added from his place in the hall.

"Exactly," Brooke tacked on. She raised an eyebrow, smirking at her uncle. "You did say I needed to get out…right?"

Hotch shook his head, unable to stop the smile that tugged at his lips at her teasing tone. Leave it to Brooke Davis to use his own advice against him. He had, indeed, told her to get out; to have fun. But he had to admit, he certainly hadn't expected Reid to be her company.

"Well…that's kind of you, Reid," he said, turning to face his colleague. Was it horrible to be a little entertained at just how uncomfortable the young man seemed to be under his gaze? "I'm sure you'll keep an eye on her. She tends to find trouble when left to her own devices." He rolled his eyes when Brooke reached out and smacked him against the shoulder.

Reid smiled at the exchange, nodding his head. "Yes, sir."

"Alright then," Hotch said, clearing his throat as he stepped to the side. "I guess…um…have a good night. At dinner."

Brooke smiled, rolling her eyes as she stepped passed him. "You too, Uncle Aaron," she said, shaking her head as she stepped into the hallway.

"Hotch," Reid said, waving awkwardly as he turned to follow Brooke down the hallway.

Hotch stood there for a long moment, watching as they headed down the hall. Brooke had her head tilted up towards Reid, her cheeks upturned in a smile as she laughed at something Reid said. Reid's youthful face was grinning, his hand running quickly through his hair as they turned the corner.

He closed the door, running a hand under his chin for a moment before he turned, crossing the room to the kitchen table. His suit jacket was draped across the back a kitchen chair, and his hand snaked into the pocket, his fingers wrapping around his cellphone as he tossed the newspaper onto the table.

Flipping open the phone, he dialed the familiar number, unable to help the small smile that crossed his face when his ex-wife's voice spoke to him from the other line.

"How worried should I be that Brooke is on a dinner date right now with Reid?"

Haylee was silent on the other line for a long moment. "_Spencer _Reid?" She made a contemplative noise in the back of her throat. "That certainly wasn't one I saw coming. Why, Aaron, are you worried that Reid might get a little fresh with Brookie tonight?" He could practically hear her smile on the other line.

"I think I'm still in a little bit of shock," he replied, leaning against the counter as he crossed an arm over his chest. "Did she mention a date to you the other afternoon?"

"Can't say that she did," Haylee said. "But, then again, I'm just as overprotective as you are, so I can't say that she would. But it's a good thing, isn't it? You said that she was being a little sheltered."

"It is a good thing," Hotch said, nodding. "I guess I'm just a little surprised I'm still as worried about her now as I was when she was 15."

"Old habits die hard, Aaron," Haylee said softly. Her voice still soothed him, he realized. Despite their trials; their arguments….despite their divorce, he still found her voice to be the one thing that can lighten his mood. "Um…Jack is just getting ready to go to bed…Would you like to say goodnight?"

He smiled, nodding his head. "Yeah. Thank you, Haylee." He waited as she softly called out for their son, and his smile spread into a grin when his son's voice came over the phone. "Hey, buddy."

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"So…what kind of FBI agent is fluent in magic tricks?" Brooke laughed, reaching over and picking up the napkin Reid had moments before punctured with the knife next to his plate, in awe that there wasn't a single tear or hole in the thin fabric. She grinned, arching an eyebrow. "Do they teach a class of that at Quantico?"

Reid smirked, shrugging his broad shoulders. "I'm afraid that's classified."

Brooke laughed, shaking her head as she turned the napkin again. "You baffle me, Reid," she said softly, raising her eyes slightly to see him peering at her. Why was his gaze so intense every time he stared at her? It was like he could see to the very recesses of her inner self. Past all the bullshit layers she put up to hide her true thoughts from everyone else. It was like he knew her—the real Brooke Davis.

Which amazed her, since she sometimes felt she didn't know that girl at all.

"Why do you say that?" Reid asked, propping his chin in his hand as he rested an elbow on the table.

"Well…for starters, I've met a lot of FBI agents over the years, and never has one of them awed me with a magic trick," she said, waving the napkin in her hand, smiling when he laughed. "Then of course, there's the fact that you're all genius-y and don't really seem to like being out and about on the town, yet you knew about this restaurant." She motioned to the low-key Italian restaurant he'd driven her to earlier, with its dim lighting and soft jazz music playing in the background. She'd been pleasantly surprised, even more so as the evening wore on, to discover that the almost awkward genius could actually wine and dine with the best of them. Dinner was followed by small talk, none of which seemed forced or uncomfortable. It was almost like they'd known each other for years. She shrugged. "It just seems like every time I think I figure something out about you, you go and completely contradict it. There haven't been a lot of times that's happened, you know."

Reid pursed his lips, nodding. "Well, I'm a profiler. I don't think I'm supposed to be easy to pin down." He looked her over, and leaned closer. "You know, you're a bit of a contradiction, too."

"Have you been profiling me, Dr. Reid?"

He smiled. "Occupational hazard."

Brooke laughed, nodding as she pushed a stray curl behind her ear. "Okay, then. Profile me. Why am I a contradiction?"

Reid sighed, raising his glass of beer to his lips as he peered at her over the rim, before he cleared his throat. "You're unhappy." He saw a flicker of something in her eyes, but just as quickly it was gone, replaced by the same cool emotion he'd seen time and time again. "You're very good at hiding it, don't get me wrong. But I'm trained to spot it. You gave up an incredibly successful career, which leads me to believe that you truly don't care for material things, no matter how much you insist you do. Though you clearly have a close knit group of friends that you consider family, you chose to come to an unfamiliar town to say with your uncle while you…vacation." Again, that flicker in her eyes at the mention of the word "vacation." He cleared his throat, shifting slightly in his seat. "That leads me to believe that you see yourself apart from them. That perhaps you don't see yourself as fulfilled or content, or just that, whatever it is that you're dealing with, you don't want them to think any less of you if they should find out. In your mind…it's almost like your problems aren't as great as theirs. Which, forgive me for putting it bluntly…is wrong. They are just as great and important."

Brooke sat silently, watching him for a long moment, feeling her chest tighten with every word he spoke. She smiled suddenly, a soft, self-mocking smile, as she shook her head. "Uncle Aaron did always recruit the best," she said softly, raising her eyes to meet his. "So if I haven't fooled you, I'm guessing I haven't fooled him either?" Reid's gaze softened apologetically, and she nodded. "I'm not here on vacation." She watched him nod, his handsome features softening slightly. "Something happened…back in Tree Hill. To me. And….it changed everything. How I saw my life, how I saw myself. Suddenly, in the space of a few short, agonizing minutes, I wasn't the confident, content girl I thought I was. I was suddenly seeing everything that I'd tried to ignore about my life, since I launched the company public. The way I acted, the way I felt…" She sighed, shaking her head as she clenched her jaw tightly. "Do you ever just…look back on your life, and realize that you don't like the person you've become?"

Reid nodded, his hand unconsciously sliding up to the crease in his elbow. He could still feel the prick of the needle as Tobias had injected him with that poison he struggled to ignore. He could still feel that desire to use it again; to escape—even if just for a moment—to that place where he didn't have to concentrate so hard. He cleared his throat, meeting her gaze. "Yes," he said softly.

"It sucks, huh?" she asked, laughing softly under her breath.

Reid leaned forward, unable to quench the urge of protectiveness he suddenly felt towards the dark haired beauty sitting across from her, and he slid his hand over the table to gently cover her own. "What happened, Brooke?"

He could see the shine of tears in her eyes as she raised her gaze to meet his. Her fingers gently curled around his hand, and his thumb caressed the top of her hand gently; automatically. For the first time in as long as he could remember, Reid wasn't thinking. He was acting on instinct—to comfort.

"Someone…broke into my life…and shattered everything," she said softly. "I, um…I got attacked in my store one night. A man in a mask…jumped me as I was leaving. He left me bleeding on the floor as he ransacked everything, and he then he just…walked away. Do you know that I can still hear his voice in my head?" She let out a shaky sigh, using her free hand to quickly wipe the tears that were making their way down her cheek. "Anyway…I couldn't tell anyone."

Reid frowned. "Why not?"

"Because," she said, shrugging. "Lucas and Nathan had just lost one of their players, a boy they were incredibly close to. And Peyton and Lucas had just gotten engaged, which, might not seem like much, but it was long, looong, overdue. Haley was dealing with Jamie, and Millicent was moving with Mouth to Omaha. They all just had so much going on that I just…couldn't bring myself to tell them. So I made up some stupid story about falling down the stairs to explain the bruises, but then it all just got to be so much and I felt like I was suffocating. So I told all of them I was taking a trip to see Uncle Aaron and Aunt Haylee, and that I'd be back in time for the wedding, and I just left."

"And none of them even suspected…"

Brooke smiled. "The thing about problems, Reid? When you've got enough of your own…you kind of tend to let everyone else's slide by. I didn't give them a reason to question anything. So…." She shrugged, trailing off, and let the silence hang between them.

"Have you told Hotch this?"

She shook her head. "I want to," she confessed. "From the second I got here, all I've wanted to do is tell him. Growing up, he was pretty much the only person I could depend on. And I know that it's just as true now…but I can't help but feel that if I tell him…he's going to think of me completely different. That I'm going to go from his niece to a victim in the time it takes to tell what happened. It's stupid, I know, but…"

Reid shook his head. "It's not stupid," he said, swallowing the lump in his throat. He knew that it was out of character—he never told anyone. It had taken years for his team to find out, and even then, it wasn't by choice. But he had to let her know that she wasn't alone in how she was feeling. "My mother is a diagnosed schizophrenic." He watched her eyes shoot up, shocked, as she tilted her head slightly. "She's…institutionalized at a facility in Las Vegas…where I grew up. She was a brilliant literature teacher…the smartest woman I'd ever known. But there were days…growing up…when I could see her wrestling with her inner demons. She denied it, of course. And it all started to take its toll—on her and me. So when I turned 18, I had her put in the hospital." He sighed, watching as Brooke kept her gaze steady on him, never flinching. "I love my mother, and I'm proud to call myself her son. But I never told anyone about her, or where she was, because I was afraid how they would look at me. But, eventually, they found out. And nothing changed. Because when people care about you, Brooke…they care, regardless of what's in your past or exactly how you came to be the way you are. They look at me exactly the same way they always have. And, trust me when I say that it's a relief not to harbor that secret anymore."

Brooke sighed, sitting back in her seat as she took in the man sitting across from her. No one had ever spoken to her the way Reid did. To share something so personal and emotional, for no other purpose than to help her overcome her own fear. He didn't do it to gain pity, or to outdo her. He didn't belittle her own experience. Spencer Reid was laying his most vulnerable truths at her feet, all so she would see that he knew what it was like.

He didn't ridicule her for running away, or for not reporting it. He didn't look at her like she was some worthless human being. He didn't look at her like she was a victim.

He was looking at her in that same intense way he'd stared at her in the bullpen of the BAU.

And it still sent little shivers down her spine.

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"Mr. Hotchner, this is Nathan Scott."

Hotch ran a towel over his damp hair as he frowned, listening to the familiar voice that spoke to him from his voicemail. He'd missed a call while he'd been in the shower, and he'd been more than a bit surprised to hear the voice of his niece's childhood friend. He'd nearly forgotten Brooke and Nathan Scott had been close friends growing up. He hadn't had much interaction with the young man, but he'd heard his name mentioned numerous times over the years, and had met him a few times when he'd visited Brooke in Tree Hill. He had a vague picture of the dark haired boy in a blue and white basketball jersey, a smile on his handsome face.

"Um…sorry if this seems out of the blue. I talked to Peyton earlier and she mentioned that you'd called her, asking about Brooke and the way she's been acting lately."

He frowned, draping the towel over his dresser as he leaned against it, cradling his hand to his ear.

"I'm ashamed to say that I've been pretty distracted lately, and maybe haven't been paying that much attention to anybody else's problems lately. But…I know Brooke. And I know she's all tough-as-nails, 'it's-all-good,' but…it's not. She's been dealing with a lot of heavy stuff lately, on her own, and that's my fault, for not being there. And she's not really returning my calls lately, so…" Nathan sighed on the other line. "I don't know why I'm calling you, but I do know that you've pretty much been the only parent to her. You should know that she's not okay, no matter how much she insists she is. I don't think her fall down the stairs was a fall down the stairs."

Hotch heard the gentle knock on his door, and he snapped his phone shut as he called out to come in. He tossed the phone onto the dresser behind him when he saw Brooke poke her head in the room, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders. He raised his eyebrows, forcing a smile on his face. "Have a good time?"

Brooke shrugged, leaning against the door as she crossed her arms behind her. She was biting her lower lip, a trait he'd come associate with anytime she was struggling to tell him something.

He frowned, raising to his full height as she took a step further into the room. "Brooke-."

Brooke sighed. "I need to tell you something," she whispered.

Never had such a small, simple phrase chilled Aaron Hotchner to his very core.

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An hour later he was seated across from Brooke on the living room couch, his hands clenched tightly into fists in his lap as he listened to her retell the story of her attack. Every detail added to his horror and anger, and he had to constantly remind himself that he needed to remain calm for her. She needed her uncle at that moment, not a protector.

She was sniffling, her hands trembling as she swiped at the tears on her cheeks. Her hair was in tangles from her constant tugging and pulling as she had talked, and her eyes were nearly bloodshot with the force of her cries. She sighed, unable to lift her gaze to his meet his, instead focusing on her lap, where the remnant of Reid's napkin now sat in a torn pile.

Reid had convinced her that telling her uncle about the attack was the choice to make. She had made the first step by telling him, but it was Hotch that deserved to know. And she knew that he was right. And that, regardless of how her revelation changed the way he may look at her, she couldn't continue to suffer knowing that he might be able to help her.

Hotch swallowed the lump in his throat, and he reached out, cupping her chin in his hand gently, and pulled her face up until his eyes were level with hers. "Why didn't you call me, Brooke?" he implored.

Brooke shrugged. "I know it sounds stupid, but I was really embarrassed. I mean, you always said that you were so proud that I was able to take care of myself, and then I let this happen—."

"Hey," Hotch interjected, giving her a steady stare. "This…was not your fault. Do you hear me?" He stared at her until she nodded softly. "You need to understand that, Brooke. You could not have done anything to prevent this. It was beyond your control…do you understand?"

She nodded again after a moment, and he sighed, letting his hand drop back to his lap. He hated seeing the images that had conjured themselves in his head—Brooke lying beaten and broken, alone and terrified on a cold floor, as some masked psychopath ravaged her store around her. She'd suffered for weeks in silence, not telling a soul, because she feared they would think less of her. And though he saw it, time and time again, in countless survivors he'd spoken to over the years, the fact that it was his Brooke that feeling this way infuriated him to his core. He wanted nothing more than to find the man that had put those shadows in her eyes and—

He shook off the thought, pushing his rage to the back of his mind. He sighed, running a hand down his face as he stared at his niece. "Brooke, I need you to tell me everything you can remember about the man that attacked you."

Brooke frowned, her head shaking slightly. "He wore a mask, Uncle Aaron. I never saw his face."

"Well, what about anything else about him? Any scars you could see? Tattoos, distinguishing marks?" She shook her head after every suggestion, and he tried to squelch the feeling of despair that was rising in his chest. Without any description about her attacker, there was almost no way to track him down.

"Funny, isn't it?" Brooke asked softly. "I can't even tell you what he looks like, but I can't get his face or his voice out of my head."

Hotch frowned. "His voice?"

Brooke nodded, closing her eyes. "'Have a nice night,'" she whispered. She opened her eyes, looking up at him. "That's what he said to me before he left. 'Have a nice night.' Like what he had just done to me was nothing to him…" Her lip quivered, and she bit back a sob. "I'm so tired of being afraid, Uncle Aaron."

Hotch had to bite back the tears he could feel welling inside him at the way her voice cracked, and he reached out, gently pulling her into a tight embrace. His arms wrapped around her protectively just like they did when she was a little girl, crying as she asked why her parents didn't want to spend time with her. He felt her arms snake around his shoulders, and he heard her sob quietly into his chest. "It's going to be okay, Brooke," he whispered as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "I promise. I'm going to find who did this. I've got some contacts in Charlotte, I can get the ball rolling there. I don't care if they see this as nothing more than a random act of violence, I'm going to find this bastard."

He heard her mumble something against his chest, and he pulled away, frowning. "What was that?"

Brooke shook her head, running a hand through her hair. "This wasn't random," she said softly.

"What do you mean?"

The look of determined anger in her eyes nearly threw him, and he saw the way her jaw tightened.

"Nothing Victoria does is ever random."

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**Dun-dun-dun!**

**The cat's out of the bag! Hopefully you all are pleased with the way it came about. Somehow, Brooke confessing to Reid first just seemed right. It kind of made me realize that their connection is even stronger than I realized…the characters truly are taking on a mind of their own.**

**So now that Hotch knows, do you think he's going to let it go? Come on…this IS Hotch we're talking about. He's like a Papa grizzly bear. You don't mess with his cubs and walk away unscathed. We'll get a bit of a bigger glimpse into protective Uncle Aaron in the next chapter.**

**I hope you guys enjoyed this one! I promise that Brooke and Reid's next date—and yes, there will be a next date!—will be lighter on the heavy stuff, and more into the unbelievable cuteness that is them.**

**Let me know what you guys think!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Breathing Room**

**A.N.: Man…you guys rock my face off every time I read your reviews! I cannot believe how much this story has caught on! It makes me smile so much thinking that you guys love Brooke and Reid's journey as much as I do.**

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The agents of the BAU were slowly trickling in, their young, eager faces shining with thoughts of facing the day ahead.

Hotch could remember those days, after he had graduated from the academy. He had walked through the doors of Quantico, his heart racing with the reality that he could be moments away from stopping some crazed killer from taking another victim. He had anticipated the thanks he was going to receive from the families and survivors he would interact with.

He knew better now.

He knew that a number of the cases he faced everyday rarely ending happily. Lives were lost, dreams were crushed, grief ran rampant. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd been thanked by someone for finding their loved ones killer. He knew that, for every life that was spared by capturing a serial killer, there were many others that had been shattered in his wake. He knew that true evil existed in this world.

He had just never thought it could ever strike so close to home.

Hotch sighed, running a hand through his hair as he turned and headed back to his desk, his eyes traveling to the picture that sat on the corner of his desk.

Brooke's smiling face was peering up at him, her arms wrapped tightly around Jack's shoulders as he stuck his tongue out at the camera. Her hazel eyes were shining with all the enthusiasm and potential a young person could possibly possess. She'd been 21, visiting for the first time since she had launched Clothes Over Bros. public. She'd been happy, and excited for what her future was going to hold now.

How could they have known her future would end up like this.

"_What are you saying, Brooke?"_

_The dark expression on the young brunette's face was enough to clench his heart dead in his chest. Her eyes were cold and icy, an expression he had never expected to ever see. Not in her. It was almost as if they were lifeless._

_She arched an eyebrow quizzically at him. "It would make sense, wouldn't it?" she asked softly, her voice hoarse from the extent of her crying. "She knew I wouldn't give up the company without a fight. She threatened me. She sure as hell didn't act surprised when I showed up in New York beaten black and blue. It doesn't exactly pronounce her innocence, does it?"_

_Hotch sighed, unable to help the thoughts that were drifting through his mind. Victoria had always been cruel. Since they were children, she'd terrorized their younger brother, Sean, to the point that he would leave the room when his older sister was anywhere near him. She had a dark mean streak, and at times, seemed to be without a conscious. He had honestly feared for the well fair of Brooke when she was born, knowing full well that Victoria was incapable of showing such a precious thing the love that was truly deserved. That was why he'd made it a point to make sure Brooke knew just how cherished she was._

_But did she have it in her to hurt her own daughter._

"_Brooke…this is a serious accusation, do you understand that?"_

_She smirked, her eyes tilting to the ceiling as she ran a hand through her hair. "That's exactly what she said. 'I'd never physically hurt you.' The thing about that is…Millie, my assistant, was supposed to be there that night. God knows Victoria hated her. Maybe she didn't mean for me to be the victim. But I was, Uncle Aaron. And for that whole time I was in New York, in her apartment, she never once….asked if I was okay." She took a deep, shuddering breath, and tears welled in her eyes again. "Did you know that she never wanted me?"_

_Hotch froze, his eyes lingering on his niece's distraught face, his heart breaking._

"_She told me…she said she wished I'd never been born. That I ruined everything for her. So, if that's true…if she truly didn't want to be a mother, then tell me…what would stop her from making sure she didn't have to be anymore?"_

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He was furious with his younger sister.

He'd sat there in silence, listening to the despair and defeat in Brooke's voice, realizing that Victoria had done more damage than he had even realized.

He'd known she didn't want to keep the baby. She'd told him so herself, over 2o years ago, not long after she'd found out she was pregnant. She was furious, unable to comprehend how Richard Davis had let this happen. The truth was, Richard Davis could have cared less about his wife. And once he realized that the baby she carried was, in fact, a girl, not the son he had been hoping for, he could have cared less about Brooke as well.

But never in a million years did he ever think she would be heartless enough to reveal that fact to her own daughter.

Sighing, he pulled out his chair and sat down, reaching across the desk and picking up the handset to the phone. His fingers hesitated over the numberpad for a brief moment before he quickly dialed the number he knew from memory, but had only called three times before.

"Clothes Over Bros."

"Victoria Davis, please," he said softly into the receiver, his grip tightening on the handset as he waited for his call to be connected. He had to bite his tongue to keep from screaming when he heard his sister's voice come over the other end.

"Victoria Davis," she said, her voice oozing with authority he knew she didn't deserve.

"It's Aaron."

An impatient sigh greeted him, and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Well, hello, dear brother," she said sarcastically. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this call? Shouldn't you be out saving the world or some other valiant act like that?"

Hotch let his gaze travel to his office windows again. "I thought you might like to know that Brooke is here. In D.C."

"Of course she is," Victoria replied. "She always runs to you when things get tough. Really, Aaron, I told you time and time again, you can't coddle her. She'll never amount to anything if you keep holding her hand through every little twist and turn." She sighed, and he could clearly picture her tossing her dark hair—so identical to her daughter in nearly every way—over her shoulder. "So? Is that all you called to tell me? Her whereabouts? As I'm sure she's mentioned already, we've parted creative ways."

Hotch gritted his teeth. "Parted creative ways?"

"Yes…Brooke's never had the head for business, Aaron, you know that. It was a fanciful dream in the mind of a foolish child that she could take this company as far as she wanted on her own. She finally just…realized she couldn't handle it all. I mean, I don't know what it was like when you were a lawyer, but you cannot imagine the cutthroat empire that the fashion industry is. You have admit, Brooke's a bit fragile."

"Have you completely deluded yourself, Victoria?" he snapped, lowering his voice when he spotted a young agent glancing in the window as she passed his office. He turned his chair so his back faced the door. "Has it slipped your mind, Brooke's visit to you last month?"

His sister was silent on the other end.

"You do remember, don't you? When she showed up on your doorstep—_beaten and bruised—_and you, instead of showing any concern for her well-being, instead proceeded to tell her your sad little sob story about how she ruined your life?"

"Oh, for God's sakes, Aaron. She was hardly beaten and bruised when she showed up here."

"Then what would you call it?" he demanded, clenching his hand into a fist on his desk.

"I don't know, Aaron. A ploy, maybe? She always did have quite inventive ways to get attention and get what she wants. And you and Haylee were always so keen on giving in to her every demand."

Sitting up in his seat, Hotch felt the reign on his anger snap. "A ploy? A ploy, Victoria? Your daughter, your own flesh and blood, was beaten and left for dead. She was horrified, embarrassed, and afraid to tell anyone. She's been suffering in silence for months. And you're just sitting there, in HER office, and you're telling me that she arranged it all for _attention?_"

Victoria sighed impatiently. "Look, Aaaron—."

"She thinks you're behind the whole thing," he stated, listening as the other end of the line went silent. "She thinks you orchestrated it all to get her company. Obviously, there's a reason that she thinks that."

"And what? You believe her? Do you honestly think I would have my own daughter attacked, Aaron?"

"When I first picked up the phone, no, I didn't. But after listening to your callousness, and your complete disregard for your daughter's safety and well-being, not to mention her sanity, I'm starting to wonder. I deal with sociopaths on a daily basis, Victoria."

"Oh?" she laughed. "So I'm one of your psychotic villains now? For God's sakes, Aaron , I've never killed anyone. Yes, maybe I took things out a little harder on Brooke while she was growing up, but look at her! I made her what she is today. Well…what she was." She chuckled softly on the other line, a cruel sound if he'd ever heard one. "She's an emotional, naïve child, Aaron. Plain and simple. If she wants to blame her mother for the actions of some unstable individual, then go ahead and let her. You and I both know that I would never physically hurt her like that."

"No," Hotch sighed, closing his eyes. "You just settle for crushing her spirit and making her feel unwanted."

"It builds character," Victoria replied unemotionally. "Now, if you excuse me, I have business to attend to. Do tell Brooke that I hope she enjoys her vacation."

The sound of the dial tone rang in his ears, and he was unable to do much more than sit there in shocked silence. How could she be so cruel? True, he saw it day in and day out, among the horrible human beings he chased after. But to know that your own flesh and blood was suffering in ways that could barely be described, and not care the slightest bit…

He hung up the phone, and rested his head in his hands on his desk. He remained like that for a long moment, taking deep breaths to calm his racing heart. He needed to keep a level head here. For Brooke, and for his team. He had a job to do, after all. But first thing was first…

He caught sight of J.J. walking past his office in the direction of her own, and he rose from his seat. Walking quickly to the door, he pulled it open, calling her name. She turned, her blonde ponytail swinging behind her as her smile greeted him. A large pile of case files were clasped against her chest, and she nodded at him in greeting as she headed in his direction.

"Morning, Hotch," she said, her brow furrowing when she noticed his weary face. "Is everything okay?"

"J.J., I need you to do something for me," he said, watching as she adjusted the load in her arms, nodding. "This needs to stay between the two of us for the moment. I don't want the rest of the team to know just yet." He saw the wariness that passed through her blue eyes, and he sighed, knowing the various scenarios that were passing through the agent's mind. "I need you to get ahold of your contact in Charlotte." Her frown increased as she nodded. "I need you to find out if there have been a rash of robberies or assaults in the area…see if any of them have been around Tree Hill, and see if there have been any leads on anything that's been stolen. Computers, anything electronic. See if they have any leads. If there's anything at all to begin with."

"Tree Hill?" J.J. asked, shifting slightly on her feet as she glanced into the bullpen, lowering her voice as she leaned into towards him. "Hotch…did something happen to Brooke?"

Hotch merely stared her, clearing his throat before he took a step back. "Let me know what you find out."

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"So…dinner went well?"

Reid glanced up from his computer at the sound of Morgan's voice, and he looked over the see his friend's smiling face walking into the bullpen. "It went fine," he said nonchalantly, turning his attention back to his previous activity.

"Fine? That's all I'm getting?"

Reid looked back at over at him, pursing his lips, before he nodded. "Yeah."

Morgan laughed, leaning against his desk as he opened his mouth for a retort, but he was cut off when Hotch's voice came from above them.

"Reid? Do you have a minute?"

Never had Reid been more intimidated by such a simple phrase. Ignoring the grin that plastered across Morgan's face, Reid rose awkwardly from his seat, straightening his tie as he made his way up the stairs towards Hotch's office, where his superior—and Brooke's uncle, reminded himself—was waiting next to the open door. Offering a nervous smile, he let Hotch usher him inside, and he stood hesitantly in front of the desk, his hands jammed deeply in his pockets.

He'd never really been in this position before. He'd dated over the years—not often, of course, but he still dated. But he'd certainly never been faced with the parent—or, in this case, surrogate parent—of someone he was interested in. And yes, he was interested in Brooke. Even though she was his polar opposite, there was a sheer vulnerability and authenticness about her that just drew him.

So he stood there, facing Hotch with the expression of a man facing a firing squad, and braced himself for the lecture he was sure was coming.

He certainly didn't expect what the older man actually said.

"Reid, I wanted to thank you."

Reid frowned, looking over at him. "Sir?"

Hotch sighed, crossing his arms over his chest as he nodded. "Brooke told me about her attack last night after you dropped her off. She told me that you played a large part in her finally coming clean to me." He looked at him. "I don't think I have to tell you that Brooke is an incredibly strong woman. She's faced more things than most 23 year olds ever have to, and she did so with determination. But, despite her brave façade, she's much more fragile than she cares to admit. Especially to me. She deals with things on her own because she feels like she has to. And that's something that stems back to the way she grew up."

Hotch's jaw tightened as he spoke, and Reid could see the emotions pass over his face rapidly as he tried to reign them in.

"She could have gone forever without telling me what happened to her. She would have suffered in silence, dealt with it by herself. But, somehow, you got her to come to me."

Reid cleared his throat. "Hotch, I don't think I—."

"You did," he interjected. "You and Brooke are a lot alike, Reid. You both see the world in a way that is unimaginable to any of us. Brooke connected with you because of that very fact. She recognized a bit of herself in you, I think, and it led her to realize that she didn't have to deal with this alone, or that she wouldn't be treated like some enigma if she told the truth. Because of you. Because you shared your own experience with her, for no other reason than to get her to see that fact. It hasn't happened often to her. And, obviously, it made all the difference. So…thank you. Thank you for helping her."

Reid stared at him, processing every fact that he had just explained to him. He still didn't believe that he was the reason Brooke finally went to her uncle with the truth. She had done that on her own. He may have helped pave the way a bit, but it was her who made the final decision. Hotch was right—she was far braver than any other woman her age. She was beautiful, but it was easy to see the war wounds she tried to hide so well in her face and her eyes.

He knew about them all too well.

Clearing his throat, he nodded. "You're welcome," he said quietly.

Hotch nodded, offering up a rare smile as he shrugged. "You thought I was calling you in here about the date, didn't you?"

Reid laughed, shifting on his feet as he shrugged.

"Trust me, Reid," he said, shaking his head. "There are far worse people Brooke could have decided to associate with in her time here. I trust you. I know you. Those are characteristics her past…friends haven't exactly possessed. I don't doubt for a second that she's not in the best hands she possibly could be right now. You made her old smile come back, which is something I haven't seen in years. So I'm not going to complain. But I'm trusting you to look after her with the care you do in your work here, at the BAU. And if your friendship develops into something more, well…I guess I'll deal with it when the time comes."

Reid nodded, uncertainty clouded his youthful features. Hotch was speaking so certainly, as if a relationship was inevitable between him and Brooke. The thought was pleasant, he admitted. Brooke truly wasn't like any other girl he'd ever known. But, as he'd thought earlier, she was his polar opposite. Everything he wasn't.

How would it ever work?

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"Hey, B. Davis! These sketches are awesome!"

Brooke smiled at the excitement she heard in her best friend's voice, and she laughed, lifting her coffee mug from the kitchen counter as she made her way to the couch, the phone cradled against her neck. "I'm glad you like them, P. Sawyer."

"Um, 'like' is totally not even the word, Brooke. These are amazing." She could a faint music in the background, and she recognized the voice of Mia, the young recording artist Peyton had signed as her first act at her record label.

"Is that Mia's new album?"

"Why, yes it is. Mia has been one busy worker, let me tell you." She laughed, and Brooke could picture her smiling face, and she suddenly missed her friend. "Hey, I forgot to tell you that your uncle called me the other day."

Brooke frowned, setting her coffee on the table in front of her as she curled her legs up underneath her. "He did?"

"Yeah, it was crazy," Peyton continued. "I haven't talked to him since…God, graduation. But he called and was asking about you, like if anything was bothering you or anything. I told him about Victoria, but he seemed to already know that. And about your clumsy ass falling down the stairs. Anyway, I think he's worried about you for some reason. Is everything okay?"

Brooke sighed, closing her eyes as she leaned back into the couch cushions. Uncle Aaron had known along that everything wasn't okay. She knew better—of course she hadn't fooled a trained profiler. He had always been able to tell when she was lying. From stealing the cookie from the cookie jar to sneaking out with the boy from across the street that summer when she was 14. She couldn't ever get anything past him.

"Brooke?"

She opened her eyes, running a hand through her hair. "Yeah, Peyton, I'm okay. Just…the whole thing with Victoria and…giving back Angie. I guess I've been taking it a little harder than I thought. I'm fine, though. This little mini vacation was just what I needed. But do not think that I am slacking on your wedding dress, Miss Sawyer. I've got the fabric ordered and on the way. You are going to be a beautiful bride, if I do say so myself."

"Well, as long as my maid of honor isn't more beautiful than me…so make sure your dress is hideous, okay?"

Brooke's jaw dropped open, and she sat up on the couch, a smile breaking across her features. "Me? Really?" she squealed excitedly.

Peyton laughed. "Well, yeah, it shouldn't be a surprise."

"But it's so good to hear!" Brooke laughed, nearly bouncing in her seat.

"Brooke Davis, you are crazy," her best friend laughed across the line. "So, are you going to be D.C. the whole wedding planning? 'Cause, you know…we're kind of missing you back here."

Brooke nodded, her smile slipping from her face as she sat back into the couch. Returning to Tree Hill had been something she'd been thinking about all night. It was understatement when she said a weight had been lifted off her shoulders after telling her uncle about the attack. She felt lighter, and she felt like she could breathe again. But, when she was being honest with herself, she wasn't sure she was ready to go back and face everything just yet. To go back to her empty store, to see her happy, smiling friends and go back to pretending that her whole world wasn't turning upside down; that she wasn't completely at a loss of what she was supposed to do now that she didn't have Clothes Over Bros. to go to every day.

At least here she didn't have to put on a brave face. Uncle Aaron knew everything, and Reid was there to help her through everything.

Reid…

She couldn't stop thinking about him since he'd dropped her off last night. She couldn't explain it, but there was something about the socially awkward genius that made a blush come to her face. She didn't know if it was his sweet, awkward smile, or the way his voice could just soothe her into calmness, even if he was spouting off some random fact that she didn't completely understand. It was like she didn't have to pretend around him. She could just be Brooke.

She just wasn't sure she was truly ready to leave.

"I'm not sure just yet, Peyton," she said carefully, not wanting to offend her friend or hurt her feelings in any way. "You know, it's just been awhile since I've really had time to spend with Uncle Aaron and Aunt Haylee…and Jack has grown like a foot and a half since the last time I saw him. I'm just kind of enjoying the break for awhile. Not that I don't miss you guys like crazy, too, but…"

"You need a break," Peyton finished. "I get it, Brooke. Trust me. I know it's been a crappy year for you, too. Don't worry about it. As long as you're here for the wedding, I have no problem with you staying right where you are. And I know everyone else will feel the same. So…take your time. Enjoy your family. Maybe steal some state secrets from the FBI while you're at it, like if Marilyn Monroe really committed suicide."

Brooke laughed.

"What? Come on, there have to be some perks to having an FBI agent for an uncle. Get me some dirt!"

Brooke shook her head, smiling. "I love you, P. Sawyer."

She could hear her friend's smile through the phone. "I love you, too, B. Davis. Now get to work. I'm not paying you to slack off on your vacation. I need a kick ass wedding dress."

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"Janet McCreary, 25."

The young face that flashed at them from the projector screen was smiling, dark brown hair cascaded around a round, lovely face.

"She disappeared after her shift at a department store, here in D.C."

They watched as the smiling face of Janet McCreary was replaced with two other photos of similar looking young women. All brown haired, all early to mid twenties.

All missing, or dead.

"She's the third woman to go missing over the last month. She disappeared in the same area as the other two, her car abandoned outside a gas station, keys still in the ignition. The body of Sarah Knight was found two weeks ago, in a forest not far from Highway 33. She'd been raped, beaten, and strangled."

Rossi looked up from the file open on the desk in front of him, a frown marring his bearded face. "Why are we just hearing about this now?"

"The local police didn't think there was a connection until the last abduction, and then the body of Sarah was found. They started to compare the different cases, spotting similarities," J.J. explained, pointing the remote in her hand to the screen, watching as a new image took over.

The BAU team leaned forward, their eyes taking in the writing that had been carved into Sarah Knight's stomach.

" 'That which was unclean, now remain clean,'" Reid recited, his brow furrowing.

"The same message had been left in the vehicles of the other two missing women. After Sarah was found, they went back over Janet and Bethany Markus' cars, found the same message hidden somewhere inside."

"So what are we looking at?" Prentiss asked, leaning her elbow on the table as she scanned the photos on the screen. "Religious fanatic?"

"Not necessarily," Reid said, looking over at her. "There's no real mention to any biblical literature in his message. It hints towards the blood of Christ in a way, but it seems to speak more towards how he viewed the victim."

"Unclean?" Morgan asked, twirling his pen in his hand. "Police said that Sarah wasn't a real big party girl. She was a paralegal, working her way into law school. She didn't have a boyfriend, didn't seem to sleep around…"

"Anymore," J.J. added, crossing her arms over her chest as she walked closer to the table. "Her parents said that she was a bit of a wild child in high school. Drugs, alcohol, sex…she apparently had a bit of a reputation. But after a party where she was slipped some Rohypnol, it scared her straight."

"She was raped?" Hotch asked.

J.J. shook her head. "No, a friend tracked her down before it could get that far. But her parents said the experience was a wake up call for her. She cleaned up her act, graduated top of the class, and went on to college."

Rossi nodded, leaning back in his chair. "So obviously, someone still sees her as falling short of the 'clean' definition. What about the other two? Janet and Bethany? Same story?"

"Somewhat. They both were pretty wild in high school, but eventually cleaned up. But Janet never went to college, instead took a job at her aunt's department store. Bethany is a crisis counselor."

Hotch cleared his throat, his eyes traveling over the papers in front of him. "Sarah disappeared two weeks ago, Bethany a week after that. Sarah's body was discovered the day after Janet went missing. Obviously, the unsub is ensuring he has a living victim at all times."

"More than one, if Bethany is still alive," Morgan added. "Is there any other connection between them, other than their rebellious pasts?"

J.J. shook her head. "None that the police were able to uncover. They all worked on opposite sides of town, no mutual friends…."

Hotch nodded, closing the file in front of him. "Alright…we'll head out in ten."

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**And life still goes on for Hotch, even after a startling revelation.**

**Hope you guys liked this one! I know there wasn't a lot of Reid/Brooke interaction, but I promise more of that next chapter!**

**Let me know what you guys think! I'm loving this story, and I hope you guys are too!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Breathing Room**

**Author's Notes: Okay…you guys are awesome. I'm so sorry personal stuff got in the way, but I am unbelievably humbled that you guys have been sticking by Breathing Room like you have.**

**I hope this new chapter is up to par for you guys.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, as always.**

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The office was silent as the two agents sat facing one another, their faces weary with fatigue and stress.

David Rossi sat with his legs crossed at the knee. His hands were steepled at the fingers as his elbows rested on the arms of his chair, his dark eyes taking in his friend and colleague across the desk.

He sighed. "Does she remember anything about him?"

Hotch shook his head, his gaze riveted on the pen he held in his hand. "His voice," he replied. "She said he wore a ski mask, dressed in all black. His eyes were dark…" He sighed. "His voice is what she said she remembers the most."

"'Have a nice night,'" Rossi recited. "It's not much to go on. Were there any similar break-ins?"

"Not that J.J. could find. Tree Hill is a small town. Crimes don't happen quietly. I'm amazed Brooke could keep it quiet as long as she has." He sighed, running a hand down his face wearily. "I should have done something, Dave."

"What?" Rossi asked, holding out his hands in question. "There's no way you could have possibly known, Aaron. You said so yourself. She kept it hidden." He shifted in his chair, leaning forward. "What about your sister? Brooke's mom—do you believe she could be behind it?"

Hotch thought back on his conversation with Victoria, his rage at her complete disregard for her daughter bubbling back to the surface. "I don't know," he said softly.

"Well…regardless, she came to you. She admitted what happened. It's a start, Aaron."

Hotch nodded, sighing.

"Well, since we're on the subject of Brooke…"

Hotch looked up, noting the amused smile on his friend's face.

"She and Reid are the gossip of the office."

"How do people hear about these things?" Hotch asked, chuckling as he shook his head. "And since when do you follow office gossip?"

Rossi shrugged. "Peer pressure. So?"

"So? I haven't the slightest idea. They're spending time together, but apart from the dinner the night she told me, it's not been anything resembling a date. They have coffee most mornings…"

"Brooke and Reid…" Rossi smiled. "Not a pair I would have pegged."

"I'd rather not call it 'a pair' until I'm sure, Dave. Brooke dating is one thing: Brooke dating a colleague I see every day is another."

"Hey, it could be a good thing. I read Lucas' book. Maybe she could teach him a thing or two."

Hotch glared at him, his overprotective side kicking in at the friendly ribbing. "Dave."

"Just staying. The kid could use some good pointers."

"DAVE!"

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"What's with the long face, Pretty Boy?"

Reid tore his gaze away from his coffee mug, raising his eyes to meet those of Morgan, before dropping them back to the countertop.

Morgan leaned a hip against the counter, his voice smiling as he reached for an empty mug. "Trouble in paradise?"

"Paradise?" Reid asked, frowning.

Morgan laughed, filling his mug with the steaming coffee from the machine. "Brooke Davis, Reid. It's been, what, nearly a week since your 'acquaintance' dinner date? Since then, you've gotten coffee every morning together. Dinner every now and then? It'd think dating somebody like Brooke Davis would be the definition of dating."

"We're not dating," Reid snapped suddenly, causing the other agent to frown. "We're not."

Morgan held up a hand in surrender, shrugging his broad shoulders. "Hey, now, kid. No reason to jump down my throat." He watched Reid's hand as it rose to run through his hair as he sighed. "Something happen, Reid?"

The younger agent sighed, turning to face Morgan, and he shrugged. "She's exasperating."

His tone was so distressed, Morgan couldn't help but laugh.

"I think one thing, she thinks a completely different direction. She doesn't comprehend the concept of boundaries—of what's appropriate and utterly not so. She's the most frustrating person, I can barely wrap my head around it."

"Reid, Reid, hold up," Morgan said, stirring cream into his coffee as his handsome face smiled at his friend. "What are you rambling about? Boundaries? What, did Brooke bust out a move on you or something?" Reid merely stared at him, shifting on his feet as he cleared his throat uncomfortably. Morgan laughed. "My man!"

"This isn't a humorous situation, Morgan!"

The click of heels on the tile behind him was shortly followed by Prentiss' questioning voice. "What's not a humorous situation?" she asked, stopping next to the coffee machine, her dark hair pulled tightly back in a ponytail.

"Brooke made a move on Reid and he's freaking out," Morgan told her.

"Morgan," Reid interjected, glaring at Emily when she barked out an amused laugh. "Could we not make this an office discussion, please?"

"What, Reid?" Prentiss asked, smiling. "It's nothing to be embarrassed about."

Reid sighed. "I'm not embarrassed. I'm…confused."

Prentiss frowned, exchanging a glance with Morgan. "Why?"

Reid shrugged, thinking back on the events of the previous night.

_They'd been drinking._

_Reid rarely drank, but when Brooke had called earlier and asked if he wanted to go grab a night cap, he'd been unable to refuse. She drank more than he did, her voice getting louder with every sip, though it never lost the raspiness , he was surprised to see._

_They hadn't really mentioned the events of their dinner nearly a week ago, the two of them simply content to just be in each other's company, sharing silly facts and stories. _

_Hotch's conversation with him weighed heavily on Reid's mind, and the knowledge that his superior—and his friend—was entrusting Brooke's safety to him had him looking at their situation in a whole new light. _

_He couldn't help but laugh as she stumbled along beside him, her arm wrapped tightly around his, her laugh bubbling up with every step they took._

"_You know, for a genius, you really can hold your booze," Brooke laughed, looking up at him from her curtain of dark hair. "Where does that expression even come from? Hold your booze. You __**can't**__ hold your booze, it's all wet and liquid-y…unless it's in a glass…"_

_Reid laughed at her drunken ramblings, shaking his head. "Are you always like this when you're inebriated?"_

_She snorted. "Inebriated…that's a funny word. It all depends on the company, my dear doctor," she said in a drunken British accent. "HA! I could totally be Sherlock Holmes, did you hear that accent?"_

"_Maybe we should just get you home," he replied, smiling._

_Brooke groaned. "Nooo. Come on, Reid! I'm having fun. Do you have any idea how long it's been since I've had fun? I mean, don't get me wrong, I love Uncle Aaron. But he's all 'moderation' and 'drinking leads to bad decisions.'" She paused, pursing her lips thoughtfully. "Which is true. Hey, he might be onto something there." _

"_You think so?" he laughed, raising his arm as he attempted to flag down a taxi. He sighed as the yellow cab drove past, and he lowered his arm. _

"_Reid."_

_He looked over when Brooke said his name, and he met her glossed over gaze hesitantly. _

_She made him so nervous…._

_She was staring up at him, one of her hands attempting to capture the strands of hair that were blowing in the evening wind, the other still wrapped tightly around his arm._

_He swallowed around the lump in his throat. "Yes?"_

_Brooke looked at him, shrugging after a moment. "I'm sorry about your mom."_

_He frowned. "Sorry?"_

"_I don't mean sorry like she's crazy or anything. Just…sorry that she missed out on everything, you know? The FBI, all the good you do every day…I'm sorry she couldn't see it first-hand. What an amazing guy you turned out to be."_

_Reid was silent. He was actually at a loss of words. Never had anyone apologized to him for his mother's absence. Her illness, yes, constantly; but never the affect her absence must have had on his life. No one had ever told him was "amazing." Not with the same kind of empathy Brooke was expressing. _

_It happened fast, then—too fast for Reid to comprehend._

_Brooke's hand reached up, wrapping around his askewed tie, and the next thing he knew, he was tugged down to her height. Her lips were soft, catching him completely off-guard as they moved slowly against his own. Her hands rested against his chest, and he knew his raging heartbeat wasn't hidden from her touch. His own hands were sliding up her arms of their own accord, feeling her shoulders, the curve of her elbow. _

_Reid's eyes snapped open, and he forced himself to pull away, gripping Brooke's upper arms as he pushed her gently away. _

"_This is completely inappropriate," he forced out, breathing heavily as he tried to calm his racing pulse._

_Brooke frowned, blinking up at him. "What?"_

_Clearing his throat, Reid stepped back, trying not to concentrate on her flushed face, her swollen lips, her glassy eyes. "This. You and-and me. We've both been drinking—."_

"_What are you talking about?"_

"_Brooke, I think your…vulnerability over your attack, coupled with the, uh, the intense alcohol consumption over the past few hours might be clouding your…judgment."_

_Brooke scoffed. "Clouding my judgment? Reid…do you really think…"_

"_I get it, Brooke. Believe me. But your uncle is my superior agent, not to mention a friend. I know you must be…conflicted, given the experience you've suffered through but…I can't let you…compromise…yourself or you friendship. You are clearly looking for some form comfort, and I just…I can't let you—."_

_Brooke laughed suddenly, a harsh, unbelieving laugh, and shook her head. "You know, Reid," she said, taking a step backwards and running a hand through her hair, letting out a shaky breath. "I know you're a genius and all but…God, you're really dumb sometimes."_

_Reid frowned, watching as she scoffed under her breath, turning her back on him as she tried to wave down a cab. _

"_Brooke, wait, you've had way too much to drink," Reid protested as a yellow taxi pulled to the curb. _

_The brunette turned to him as she pulled open the door, and he was shocked to see a look of heartbreak on her beautiful face. "Oh, trust me," she said softly. "I'm sober now."_

_She didn't even glance back at him when she climbed into the cab, her dark hair providing a shield over her face as she leaned forward, giving the driver the directions he requested. _

_Reid stood against the curb, watching as the yellow car pulled from the curb and headed up the street before disappearing around the corner. _

_For the first time ever, Reid had absolutely no idea what to think._

"Seriously?"

Reid looked at Emily as she gaped at him, his brow furrowing as he nodded.

"Reid…God, you're an idiot."

Reid frowned. "What?"

"You completely rejected her in her moment of vulnerability! She put herself out there with you and you just crashed and burned the whole thing."

"No," Reid said, shaking his head at Emily's shocked face. "No, that's not what occurred, Emily. I was taking the side of chivalry, stopping her from doing something in her alcohol induced state that she would have come to regret."

Morgan chuckled, shaking his head as he raised his coffee mug to his lips. "The booze just gave her courage, kid. She didn't do anything she didn't want to."

"Alcohol doesn't give courage—it merely lowers inhibitions."

Emily gaped at him again, shaking her head as she looked over at Morgan. She shook a sugar packet fiercely as she picked up her mug and turned on her heel. "Unbelievable," she said under her breath, sparing one more outraged glance over her shoulder at the younger agent.

"Morgan…she was completely drunk last night. I'm surprised she could remember her own name." He sighed, shaking his head. "I've never felt like this before…so…undecided. It's like she's taken everything sensible and secure in my life in the course of a few short weeks, and turned them completely upside down. She's infiltrated my every thought. I just…."

"You're liking her, Reid," Morgan said softly, shrugged as he smiled. "What you're feeling right now is what every other guy out there has thought at one point or another. And, trust me, I know it's maddening. It drives you crazy just thinking about it." He chuckled, shaking his head. "But damn, does it make life more interesting."

"It's different with Brooke, Morgan. She's not just some girl out there. She's Hotch's niece."

"So what? Hotch is what you're worried about? Reid, last time I checked, Brooke was old enough to make he own decisions. And Hotch was perfectly fine with you going to dinner with her, you said so yourself." He watched Reid's face tighten, and he sighed. "This is your problem, Reid. You overthink. You're thinking of everything that could possibly go wrong here. How Hotch will react, Brooke intentions behind kissing you. But you're missing the part where she DID kiss you…and you kissed her back. Which means, as much as you might like to deny it, there is something there between you two. So do yourself a favor, and for once in your life…Stop. Thinking.

"This job is hard, Reid. It consumes you. Consumes your thoughts, you actions, the way you perceive everything around you. When you find something like what you're describing with Brooke….you've got to hold onto it. Because, trust me…it doesn't come around often." He shrugged. "How many Brooke Davis' do you think are in this world?"

Reid sighed, lifting his now luke warm coffee to his lips as he contemplated on everything Morgan was saying.

He was completely lost, he was coming to realize. He knew facts, knew statistics. He could recite anything if you asked him to…but when it came to women, specifically Brooke Davis, his expertise was rather limited. He couldn't deny the way he felt about her. His sleepless night, thinking about the devastated look on her face, proved that. But everything inside of him was telling him to turn away. To not risk any of this.

But a part of him was demanding that he talk to her; that he see her. That he make her see just how much he'd come to care for her in the short time he knew her.

He just knew that, regardless of which decision he made, everything that he knew was most definitely going to change.

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**Ok…I know it's short. But I figured a short update was better than no update at all. Next chapter will have more Brooke/Reid interaction, I promise. But hopefully you enjoyed this so far!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Breathing Room**

**A.N. Love you guys…for realz.**

**This update is short, but sweet. And I figured a short update would be better than no update at all. This one kind of sets the scene for the rest of the story, though. Hope you guys enjoy!**

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Penelope Garcia had seen a lot of horrible things in her years at the Bureau. Murderers, rapists, sociopaths. She'd seen families torn apart, lives shattered, killers walk free. She'd seen heartbreak.

But she wasn't sure she'd ever seen anything as heartbreaking as her new favorite girl lamenting about her favorite boy genius.

"It wasn't even _what_ he said, it was the _way_ he said it," Brooke was saying, one hand wrapped tightly around her beer bottle, the other waving wildly in the air as she spoke. She sighed, rolling her eyes. "Okay, it was kind of what he said, too."

Garcia nodded, taking a sip of her martini as she twirled on her barstool, crossing one leg over the other as she looked at the younger girl. "Okay. Walk me through it again, Sugar-Pie. You went to kiss him and…"

Brooke groaned, smacking her hand down on the bar. "And he pushed me away. He actually pushed me away and told me that what we were doing was inappropriate. He talked to me like I was some…stupid little kid. Which, I guess compared to him, I am."

"Oh, come on, honey," Garcia said, patting her hand. "We're all stupid compared to Reid."

Brooke laughed softly, shaking her head as she picked up her beer bottle and brought it to her lips. "I just…I thought we had something, Penny. You know? I mean, I have no idea what, but I just felt like he _liked _me."

"Sweet cakes…trust me. He does." She smiled softly when Brooke simply scoffed, her hazel eyes slightly glassed over, indicating that her third beer was starting to affect her in more ways than one. "You scoff, young one, but take it from someone who has worked with Boy Genius for quite some time. He's emotionally stunted, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have those emotions. He just…is unsure of them."

Brooke merely looked at her blankly, and Garcia sighed.

"Okay….think of Reid as…a cat."

Brooke blinked, her lips puckered out as she thought. "A cat?"

"Yes, a cat."

"What kind of cat?"

"The breed does not matter, Brooke," Garcia said, rolling her eyes even as she laughed. "Um…you know how cats, sometimes, when a bathtub or a sink is full of water, they tiptoe around it? You know, sniffing with their noses, feeling out everything. They're curious. But, as is inevitable, they tumble into said water. Resulting in, if you watch enough Youtube videos, a hilarious freak-out. They don't know quite how to handle the rush of the water."

"So…." Brooke mused, her dark hair falling over her shoulders as she leaned towards Garcia. "In this metaphor…I'm the water?" Garcia nodded, sipping her drink once more. A small, drunk smile spread across Brooke's face. "Because I'm shallow, right?"

Garcia laughed again, shaking her multicolored hair. "No, not because you're shallow, Brooke. I'm just trying to get you to see that Reid is just overwhelmed. He's unbelievably fascinated by you. You can tell just by watching him watch you. But he overthinks. The whole you being super hot and liking him coupled with fact that you just happen to be Hotch's niece…it overwhelmed his poor brain. Leading to the probably not so funny freak out."

Brooke sighed, her eyes falling to the worn counter top under her fingers. She shrugged, tracing the ring on condensation left from her bottle. "Maybe."

"Maybe nothing. That's the way it is, Honey-B. Trust me. You just…need to give Reid a little bit of time to adjust. Like I said…he's emotionally stunted. But he's not an idiot." She reached over, putting her hand reassuringly on the brunette's shoulder, her eyes comforting as she leaned towards her. "Just give it a little time, Brooke. Trust me on this one. Okay?"

Brooke nodded, her lips turning up into a smile. "Okay," she said softly, turning to her friend. "So…tell me what's going on with Kevin Lynch."

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Reid watched the chess game unfolding before him with only half his attention. The other half was on the beautiful brunette he'd spotted nearly ten minutes ago sitting on the bench across the park. Her long dark hair was pulled back in a messy bun at the back of her head, the few tendrils that could never seem to be tamed framing her face gently as the breeze blew them. Her eyes were fixed on the sketchpad on her lap, her hand seeming to fly across the paper.

It had been three days since that night outside the bar.

If Brooke had mentioned anything to Hotch about what happened, the older man wasn't letting on. Garcia, on the other hand, had been on a tirade. She'd cornered him the other day, lecturing him for a good twenty minutes about how being a genius didn't give him the right to disregard anyone else's intelligence. It had taken him at least half the lecture to realize she was talking about the comments he'd made to Brooke. He hadn't even been able to offer up an excuse.

"Fix it, kiddo," Garcia had said to him. "Don't break her more than she's already been broken."

So here he stood. An accredited genius, a decorated FBI agent, and he was terrified to walk the twenty feet to a park bench and talk to a girl.

"It's now or never," he said under his breath, his grip tightening on the strap of his messenger bag as he ducked out of the crowd around the chess match. He ran a hand through his hair as he made his way towards Brooke. She still hadn't heard him by the time he stopped next to the bench, her attention completely focused on her task at hand. After a moment, he cleared his throat, and he smiled uncertainly when she raised her head to look at him. "Hi."

Brooke stared at him for a moment, an array of emotions passing through her eyes before she could stop them. She reached up, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Hi," she replied softly. "What are, um…what are you doing here?"

"Taking in a chess match," he said, indicating the small crowd of people huddled around the stone tables behind him. "It's um…meditating, I guess you could say. And then I saw you and wanted to come over and say…hi."

She nodded, her eyes dropping back to the sketchpad even as her hands rotating the pencil nervously. It was a long moment before either of them spoke again, Reid rocking back on his heels as he scanned the scenery around him uncomfortably. "Listen…I'm…I'm sorry about the other night," Brooke said, her eyes raising to meet his as she shrugged. "I didn't mean to…whatever you want to call it. I just…I don't know."

Reid shook his head, sighing as he moved to sit next to her on the bench. "Brooke, you don't have to apologize. You didn't do anything wrong. If anything, I should be apologizing to you." He smiled when she looked over at him. "I'm sorry if I seemed abrupt. It wasn't my intention to make you feel as if you'd done something wrong." Garcia's advice to fix what had been broken rang through his mind, and he sighed. "You see, Brooke…I find you infuriating."

Brooke frowned, her brow furrowing as she looked at him. "Um…thank you?"

Reid laughed, shaking his head. "No, I don't…mean it like that. I just…I'm smart. Okay? That's the one thing I've been completely sure of my entire life. I'm comfortable…with statistics. Facts and theories and anything else you can learn from a book. But when it comes to you…I'm out of my element." He looked at her, noting her solemn face. "I haven't been sure of anything since that day you walked into the BAU."

Brooke smiled slightly, her hazel eyes looking the sky. "So I'm like a complex puzzle you can't figure out?"

"No, I can figure you out," Reid contradicted. "For the most part, anyway. It's the thoughts and emotions going on in my own head that I can't quite figure out." He sighed, watching as her gaze slowly drifted back to him. "I'm not an expert in relationships. I've never really adapted well when it comes to feelings and emotions. It never really bothered me much before, but since I met you…I think the term Garcia uses is 'emotionally stunted.'" She laughed then, and he couldn't deny that he didn't enjoy the sound. "I know what it's like to have your whole world fall apart and to rely heavily on someone—."

"That's not what I was doing," Brooke interjected, before Reid shook his head to cut her off.

"I know," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "Like I said before…I'm out of my element here. But the undeniable fact here is that…I like you, Brooke. Quite a bit."

A small, almost shy smile spread across her face then, and she looked down at her lap once more as she shrugged. "I like you, too, Reid."

"Good. Well, that's established then. I'm hoping that maybe we could…disregard…the other night. Perhaps go to dinner again. This time, just not as acquaintances."

Brooke smiled, her left eyebrow arching playfully as she looked at him. "Are you asking me out on a date, Dr. Reid?"

Reid smiled, nodding his head after a moment. "I think so. Yes."

She smiled, nodding her head as she pushed her hair behind her ear again. "I'd really like that," she said softly, unconsciously scooting closer to him on the bench until their hands were side by side on the worn stained wood.

Reid nodded, feeling his lips turn up in a smile even as his eyes traveled back to the chess match across the park.

Infuriating, indeed…

**0000000**

**Seriously…my teeth hurt from the sweetness that just unfolded here.**

**So yes…once again, I'm sorry it's so short. But like I said, I'd rather a short update than nothing at all.**

**Let me know how you guys liked it!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Breathing Room**

**A.N. So…I'm lame. That's the best excuse I've got. Hopefully you all forgive me for the delay, and I apologize so much for forcing you guys to wait. Hopefully this chapter makes up for it.**

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"Brooke, it's not that difficult."

"Easy for you to say. You're the one with the genius IQ."

Reid laughed, shaking his head. "It's just a few simple steps. A monkey could do it." At the look Brooke sent his way, he backpedaled. "Not that I am in any way comparing you to a primate. I merely meant to indicate that this is a simple, easy to learn process. And, it's a trait I believe should be learned, especially for people like you."

Brooke turned to him, arching her eyebrow. "Why? Because I'm a girl?"

Reid grinned, unable to help it because every time she looked at him like that, he honestly felt like the luckiest man alive. "You know it's not just because you're a girl. This is something that Hotch and I both feel would be a fundamental trait for you. Given your tendency to attract danger."

Brooke narrowed her gaze at him, crossing her arms over her chest. "I do NOT attract danger."

Reid pursed his lips, shoving his hands into his pant pockets, as he rocked on his heels, nodding. "Of course not. Because your attack, the near mugging on Center Street two weeks ago, the fall down the stairs between you and Morgan three days ago when you both collided, not to mention the alleged 'pigeon' incident—."

"Reid!" Brooke said, rolling her eyes as she turned back around to the counter. "Just show me how to shoot the gun."

Reid merely laughed, shaking his head as he pulled hearing protector over his ears.

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"Uncle Aaron, you do realize that me learning to handle a firearm is really not necessary, right?"

Hotch raised his eyebrows as he looked over his shoulder at his niece from his place at the kitchen stove. Brooke stood in the doorway of the kitchen, her dark hair pulled back into a ponytail on the top of her head, looking as lovely as ever despite being in an oversized hooded sweatshirt and sweatpants.

He shrugged, turning back to the steaks he was frying in the skillet. "Reid seems to agree that it is."

Brooke rolled her eyes, pushing away from the doorjamb and walking further into the kitchen. "Reid is borderline domineering."

He nodded, smirking as he looked at her again. "Especially when it comes to you." He spotted the small smile that tugged at her lips, and was reminded that an almost identical one graced Reid's every time his young niece's name came up. "Things are going well, then?"

She shrugged, in that nonchalant way that always drove him insane when she was growing up. "Well enough, I guess. And you're changing the subject. Why the sudden need for me to start packing heat?"

"I just thought you might feel better if you were capable of competently working a firearm," he said, flipping the steaks onto a plate and turning to place them on the table. He caught Brooke's arched eyebrow and smirking lips, and rolled his eyes. "Alright, so I thought I might feel better. Brooke, believe me, I know that you can take care of yourself. You've been doing it for just about as long as I can remember. But sometimes knowing that you're capable of _protecting _yourself makes all the difference." He looked at her as she nodded, her eyes on the tabletop. "But if you're uncomfortable with it, no one is going to force you."

Brooke smirked, the impish look that he'd always enjoyed seeing on her face peeking through. "I'm not all that uncomfortable with it. I'm an awesome shot, did you know that?"

Hotch laughed, shaking his head as he pulled out a chair and joined her at the table. "I'm not at all surprised. You always did go above and beyond."

Comfortable silence surrounded them as they ate their meal, a routine that had become so familiar in the short time Brooke had been in D.C. Hotch had nearly forgotten how much he enjoyed this: Simply sitting around, eating dinner in the company of someone else. Solidarity had become the norm for him. If he was being honest with himself, it had been borderline when he was still married to Hayley. But since the divorce, he had realized he spent more time alone than he did with other people, a fact that hadn't really bothered him until his niece came into town.

Raising his eyes, Hotch studied Brooke from across the table. He was relieved to see that the bags under her eyes were much less profound now. They were still there, evident to someone with a trained eye, but nowhere near what they were when she had first arrived. She was no longer frighteningly skinny, but was back to her slim self she had been since she hit puberty. Slowly but surely, she was transforming back into the Brooke he knew and loved.

And, as much as he hated to admit it, he was positive Reid was the reason.

"I'm fine, you know."

He blinked, raising his eyes to see Brooke smirking at him, her shoulders shrugging.

"I know that look, Uncle Aaron. Nathan and Haley gave me that very same look for weeks after the attack. I've been no stranger to it over the years." She laughed, shaking her head. "I'm fine, though…Not exactly 100% yet, but…I'm getting there."

Hotch nodded, resting his elbows on the table as he studied his niece. "I know," he said softly. "But I've worried about you every day for last 22 years. It's not exactly a habit I'm capable of stopping."

Brooke nodded, smiling. "I know…but you know what you are capable of stopping?" He raised his eyebrows in question. "Morgan from harassing Reid. For such a decorated FBI agent, he's being really immature about this whole 'boyfriend/girlfriend' thing."

Hotch laughed, grinning. "I am one man, Brooke. You are asking me to stop a hurricane."

She shrugged, sighing. "It was worth a shot," she muttered.

The ringing of Hotch's cellphone pierced through the room then, a high shrilling that was a guarantee to be heard no matter what.

Family dinner night was over.

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"It's been weeks…why would the unsub reappear now?"

Hotch looked over at JJ as they headed down the hall towards the conference room.

The body of Erin Ferris had been discovered in an alley outside a nightclub in central D.C., her stomach bearing the same violent engravings that mirrored an open case the BAU had been investigating. The trail had gone cold when the killings had stopped at three…until today.

"It's possible his need to kill had been suppressed until recently. Something must have happened to trigger his drive again."

JJ sighed, her blonde ponytail swaying from side to side with every step she took. "This is going to be a bad one, isn't it, Hotch?"

Hotch didn't meet her gaze as they neared to doors to the conference room, but his silence said everything.

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"If you think I am letting you off this phone without every SINGLE detail, you are sorely mistaken."

Brooke laughed as she took the Styrofoam cup from the barista at the coffee shop, smiling her gratitude as she repositioned the phone between her shoulder. "Garcia, really, there's nothing to tell."

She heard the other woman scoff from the other line, and a fury of typing accompanying her chuckle. "Oh, dear, dear Brooke. Do not think you can pull on over on old Garcia here. I have been at this a long, long time, and there is not a single millisecond of the day when I can tell you are lying through your teeth." Brooke could hear the wheels of her chair sliding across the floor, before the typing resumed. "You and Reid have been near inseparable for weeks. WEEKS, Brooke."

Brooke couldn't stop the slaphappy grin that spread across her face. "So?" she asked, shouldering open the door to the coffee shop and slinging her bag further up her shoulder.

Garcia scoffed. "So? What's going on?"

Brooke laughed, shaking her head. "Nothing, Garcia! We're having fun. You know? Hanging out, making out…don't you remember fun?"

"Oh, Brookie-pie," Garcia said, laughter in her voice. "Trust me when I say that the look that Spencer Reid has had plastered all over his face for the last three weeks? This is a lot more than just 'having fun' to him."

Brooke couldn't help but slow her steps after hearing Garcia's words, the smile slipping partially from her face. Yes, she knew that her relationship with Reid was more than just "fun." Especially to him. It was obvious with every smile he sent her way, every laugh he gave her for one of her horrible corny jokes, every time his hand grazed hers or his lips fluttered against her own.

She knew that, if she let herself, it could be more than fun for her as well.

But she wasn't ready for that. She wasn't sure she'd ever be ready for that. Not again.

"I'm pretty sure this is the most quiet I've ever heard you, Brooke," Garcia teased over the phone.

Brooke shook herself out of her thoughts. "Sorry, Garcia, I got distracted. Anyway…I should probably let you go. I mean, it's not like you have serial killers to help catch or anything."

Garcia laughed. "Very true, my dear, very true. So dinner this weekend? You, me, JJ?"

"You bet," Brooke said, smiling into the phone again. They bid their farewells, Brooke shaking her head at the constant silliness that was her new friend.

Life certainly had taken an interesting turn.

Run off to Uncle Aaron's to escape her nightmare in Tree Hill, and now here she was, happy.

Happier than she had been in a long time, she was scared to say.

It hadn't really been much of a secret, that she wasn't feeling very fulfilled back home. She was the only odd duck out. Haley had Nathan, and Jamie. Mouth had Millicent in Omaha. Peyton had Lucas. Hell, Skills even had DEB, as creepy as that was for her wrap her mind around. And before, none of that had really bothered her. She'd had her company to keep her busy.

But now…

She sighed, lifting her coffee cup to her lips and gingerly taking a sip of the scalding liquid. She wasn't going to dwell on that. She certainly wasn't going to admit that every time she was near Spencer Reid, her heart did a little flip flop, something it hadn't done since her time with Lucas. Whom she had loved. And she certainly didn't love Reid…

Did she?

"No," Brooke scolded under her breath, shaking her head. "You barely know the guy. You are just having FUN."

She sighed, closing her eyes against the thoughts racing through her head, and barely had time to gasp when she felt her foot catch against an uneven patch of concrete. Limbs flailing, she felt herself pitching forward, her coffee flying while her bag flew down to the crook of her elbow, and she braced herself for the impact she knew was coming, Reid's words of her being a danger magnet echoing through her head.

But the impact never came.

She opened her eyes when she realized a pair of arms were wrapped around her, holding her up. She lifted her head, peering up at the man in question.

Dark eyes were looking down at her, and a small, almost mocking smile was on his face. She couldn't help the slight chill that went down her spine as she righted herself on her feet.

Swiping a hand through her hair, she smiled up at him hesitantly, pulling the strap of her bag up. "Thank you."

The man smirked, nodding. "It's no problem," he said, his voice so soft that Brooke had to strain to hear him. "You know, you should be more careful. Pretty things tend to break. I'd have hated for it to be you on the sidewalk just now."

Brooke shifted on her feet, suddenly even more uncomfortable than she was a moment ago, as her mind tried to place why this stranger seemed so familiar to her. Nothing about him was really outstanding. He was quite plain, actually. Not exceptionally tall or good-looking. His clothes weren't designer or out of the ordinary. The whole black-on-black thing was totally last year, but not everyone could get the memo, she guessed. His face wasn't anything to gawk at,

His stare was creepy as hell, but then again, she'd been stared at before.

So why did his stare chill her to the bone.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she smiled at him again. "Yeah," she said, crossing her arms over her chest when she was his eyes rake her up and down. "Anyway, thanks again. That would have been a bad trip." She turned on her booted heel, her fingernails digging into the skin under her arms as she made to walk off.

"Can I replace your coffee?"

She kept walking as she looked over her shoulder at him. "No, thank you," she said, quickening her steps until she rounded the corner. She couldn't help looking back once more before she disappeared around the building, audibly sighing with relief when she saw the man still standing in the exact same spot and position, his creepy stalker eyes still boring straight into her back.

"Creeper," she muttered under her breath, trying to shake off the disgust she felt at the way his eyes had looked her over. She sighed, shaking her head as she hailed one of the many cabs racing up the street.

Sliding into the backseat, she rambled off her address to the disinterest driver and settled back into her seat with a sigh, suddenly wishing for her spilt coffee.

Never even noticing the man had rounded the corner slowly, and was watching as the cab pulled away from the curb.

**00000000000**

**Okay, so I know there wasn't a lot of Reid/Brooke action in this chapter, but I wanted to get an update out fast. So hopefully the cute little shot of them in the beginning kind of makes up for it, and as you all know, I do love the Hotch/Brooke moments, as well.**

**Once again, I cannot apologize enough for the delay in this update. I promise, promise, PROMISE to not make you all wait so long again, and I hope none of you have lost interest in this story. I'm hoping to have another update by next week. Let me know what you think, as always!**


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